


Tiny Tourmaline Stars

by autisticaizawashouta



Series: The Gem Cycle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive peers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood Purism, But the first point of departure isn't obvious, Gen, Greatness or Destruction, Harry's sorting isn't the only point of departure, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, Mentor Cedric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pureblood Politics, Sassy Harry, Slytherin Harry, Social Issues, Tracey Davis Does What She Wants, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, autistic characters, gay wizardry, grey morality, neurodivergent characters, systemic bigotry, worm catapults are a thing in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8607352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticaizawashouta/pseuds/autisticaizawashouta
Summary: From within the intrigue and drama of Slytherin house, Harry must navigate the perils of his first year- friends, enemies, blood politics… and in the middle of it all, Lord Voldemort is hunting the Philosopher’s Stone hidden in Hogwarts.





	1. maybe the children of a lesser god- part one

**Summary: From within the intrigue and drama of Slytherin house, Harry must navigate the perils of his first year- friends, enemies, blood politics… and in the middle of it all, Lord Voldemort is hunting the Philosopher’s Stone hidden in Hogwarts.**

* * *

 

_Maybe the children of a lesser god_

_Part One_

* * *

 

There was an old, stately castle hiding in the rolling green Scottish highlands. It sat on a bluff overlooking a glassy lake. The castle had expansive, lush grounds filled with criss-crossing paths and calm trees and stone benches. The ground were surrounded by a green, dark forest- in the daytime filled with the chatter of creatures within it, while in the night it seemed too silent to be real.

A road led away from the castle, across a bridge, to a village filled with warm light. Witches and wizards walked around the village, laughing and smiling and having a worry-free time. No Dark Lords would plague them that night.

On the edge of the village, a train pulled by a steam engine stopped at the station. The yellow glare of lanterns reflected off bright red paint, and the last vestiges of its steam vanished into the night air. A large man with a yellow lantern stood waiting for students to disembark the train, and disembark they did. A couple moments of quiet, with just the train and the man, and then a crush of students pressed off the train. The large man shouted, and the smallest students made their way towards them while older students headed towards the carriages, chattering with each other and occasionally tripping over each other, maybe stepping on the underfoot first-year. The carriages waited for them, pulled only by creatures that very few of the students could see.

The carriages trundled up towards the castle as they filled, while the large man waited for all the older students to leave. Once only the twenty-nine first-year students were left- quite a small group, but then again, classes had been small the last few years- the large man led them along a path to the edge of the lake where a fleet of small boats waited.

He got them into the boats- no more than four in one boat- he waved a hand and the fleet started gliding across the lake, the boats propelling themselves.

The denizens of the lake watched the yearly progression of first-years the way they always did- mers and the squid waiting to help any unfortunate soul who fell overboard, and other things lurking, hoping for a tender morsel.

No child fell overboard, and the mers retreated to their village.

The first-year students were led into the castle, where they waited in the entrance hall. The stern-looking Professor McGonagall, with her dark hair pulled back into a bun and her square glasses pushed up to her nose, bade the students to wait.

They waited, and screamed at the ghosts, and there was a small confrontation between a surprisingly small black-haired boy and a boy with slicked-back blond hair.

Professor McGonagall returned, and retrieved the students. She led them into the Great Hall, where they all oohed over the ceiling.

The Hat was brought out, and it sang. Children were called up to be sorted.

Towards the back of the clump of first years stood a small black-haired boy and a tall ginger boy with a long nose.

“I’ll kill Fred and George, I really will,” he said. “Fight a troll! The fat liars.”

Harry nodded, and waited for his turn, and finally Professor McGonagall called his name.

“Potter, Harry!”

Whispers filled the hall.

_ Is that really him? _

_ He looks so small! _

_ I hope he’s in our House! _

_ What are you thinking, he’ll be a Gryffindor, of course he’ll be… _

Harry didn’t think he was brave enough to be a Gryffindor. He snarked and ran, that wasn’t brave, snarking and staying would be brave. He sat on the stool and let the professor set the hat on his head.

_ Hello. Oh, where to put you… You are a cunning one, yes, you are. You are also intelligent… Well, you could be, if given the right prompting… _

Harry didn’t know whether or not to be offended.

_ Oh, don’t get offended, I’m only reading what’s in your head. You could be intelligent, but you’re incredibly cunning for such a young age. You should go somewhere that would nurture your cleverness, your cunning… And perhaps your ambition. But you also have the potential for great loyalty, and you’re very hard working. _

Please, not Slytherin, Harry thought.

_ Why not Slytherin? _

Malfoy, Harry thought at the hat, and he also remembered what Hagrid had told him: “there wasn’t a single witch or wizard who went bad that wasn’t in Slytherin”.

_ You shouldn’t let one person dictate what you feel about something. You shouldn’t let one person turn you from an entire group of people. Now, where was I… _

_ Yes, you have the potential for great loyalty, and you must be somewhere that can be nurtured. And you are incredibly brave. This is a hard decision. _

Just put me in Hufflepuff and be done with it, Harry begged the hat.

_ I’m sorry, I’m not going to just ‘be done with it’.  _ The hat sounded offended.  _ That would be terribly irresponsible! I believe you need to go somewhere you would learn how to watch what you say. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor are out, leaving Slytherin and Hufflepuff… You would do well in Hufflepuff, but you could be great in Slytherin… The ambition is in there, it’s just waiting for the right spark. _

_ But would you find that spark in Hufflepuff or Slytherin? _

Hufflepuff, Harry thought. Not Slytherin.

_ Be quiet. I’m thinking. _

Everyone’s staring at me, Harry though.

_ Of course. You’re being Sorted. Why wouldn’t they be staring at you? And I believe I’ve come to a decision. You will either drag the House out from the shadow it lurks in or destroy it entirely, but whichever happens, good luck be with you in  _ “SLYTHERIN!”

Oh, no, I’m in Malfoy’s House, Harry thought, and he let Professor McGonagall remove the hat from his head and walked down to his table to… a smattering of applause. Most children in the hall were dumbstruck.

Harry chanced a look at Ron. The other boy was looking at Harry like he had just discovered something new about him… something he didn’t like.

So the dark-haired boy looked away, and sat next to an impish-featured girl with long brown hair.

The Sorting finished when Blaise Zabini joined Slytherin, and there was a brief moment of silence before Professor Dumbledore- complete with long white beard tucked in his platinum-and-gold-patterned belt and garish purple robes- stood.

“Welcome, to another year at Hogwarts,” he said. “Before we eat and your minds are befuddled with the bemusing stupor of full stomachs, I have a few ground rules. There is a list of forbidden and banned objects on Mr. Filch’s office door. I would suggest you review it. And a reminder that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, Forbidden.” The Professor’s gaze strayed to the Gryffindor table. “And the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is also forbidden to students this year due to renovations after a… particularly inventive student accidentally defaced the corridor when their experimentive potion exploded. That is all- let us eat!”

The Professor sat, and the dishes on the table filled with food.

Harry had never seen so much food in his life, and he quickly put a couple spoonfuls of green beans and sweet potato and mixed fruit on his plate, with a small serving of ham. Pitchers of pumpkin juice were being passed around, and after filling her plate with mostly chicken, the brunette next to him turned and faced him.

“Hello, I’m Tracey Davis,” she said, and Harry nodded.

“I’m Harry  Potter. But- you probably already figured that out,” he replied, sighing and letting his shoulders drop.

“Well, yes, but it’s always polite to let someone introduce themselves to you.”

Tracey kept up a persistent chatter in Harry’s ear all through the feast- she was a half-blood- her dad was of relatively young wizarding blood- “Technically a pureblood, but they won’t let him register as, especially after he married mum”- and her mum a newblood- the daughter of two muggles. She had three younger siblings named Harvey, Ivy, and Hollyn, who were all apparently more trouble than they were worth. She grew up in Cornwall, in a purely magical town named Misty Shores, population twenty-seven.

After all the students were done eating, the food vanished. Further up the Slytherin table, Vincent Crabbe moaned as the food still on his plate vanished, and Malfoy fixed him with a petulant glare.

“I hope you had a delicious feast! I just have a few words before I send you on your way to bed- Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

The hall broke out into noise once again. The Gryffindors left first, all crushing together to leave. The Hufflepuffs left next in one big clump, and then the Ravenclaws in an orderly line.

Six Slytherin students led the rest of Slytherin from the hall. Harry watched where they led- down, mostly. He quickly committed the turns and looks of the castle to memory, and then the older students were disappearing through an arch in the wall.

The two eldest prefects held the first years back, and let the arch seal until it was just a blank wall again.

“Do you see the snake carving on that torch bracket there?” The female prefect said, pointing to said bracket. “That’s how you know where our common room is. Our first password is  _ unicorn glitter exorcism _ . Do not look at me like that, Angus,  _ Iris _ chose the password…” The two seventh-year prefects walked in, and the eleven-year-olds followed them.

“Well, no one would guess  _ unicorn glitter exorcism _ ,” Harry said, “and it’s easy to remember.”

And then they fell silent.

Directly in front of them, on the other side of chairs and tables and couches, was a huge glass wall.

On the other side of that huge glass wall, just within the range of the light from within the common room, lurked a gathering of mers.

The mers waved, some of them made motions with their hands, and then they swam off.

“Learning sign language is required for Slytherins,” Angus, the seventh-year male prefect, informed them. “Also, the mers give horrible dating advice. Don’t listen to them.”

The eleven-year-olds nodded, and listened with rapt attention while Angus and Eryn- the other seventh-year prefect- explained how Hogwarts worked, and that if you had beef with a Slytherin, you handled it in the common room. They were then released to go to bed and told that their room lists would be in the year-level common areas.

At the very bottom of the tall spiral staircase (which on one side also looked out into the lake) was the first-year dormitory. Harry entered, found his name on a list (he was in Room B with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott) and then entered his room.

Theodore- a weedy boy with brown hair- and Blaise- a handsome boy with high cheekbones and shiny black hair- were already in the room, playing a game of wizard’s chess. Blaise beckoned him over.

“Hello. I’m Zabini, Blaise Zabini,” he said, holding his hand out. Harry shook the offered hand.

“And I’m Nott- Theodore, but just call me Jett, please,” he said, and Harry nodded.

“Harry Potter,” he replied, and the two boys beckoned for him to sit down.

“Theodore here-”

“Don’t call me that anymore.”

“Fine,  _ Jett _ decided that he preferred his middle name over the honestly much more regal name his father gave him. It’s almost as bad as refusing his last name, and I wouldn’t want to be  _ Jett _ when his  _ father _ finds out.”

“I’m in Hogwarts now. I can do what I want,” Jett replied, sticking out his tongue.

Harry decided he liked Jett.

Jett was a little rough and a little harsh, but he was nice to Harry. He gave him tips while Harry was getting sorely defeated by Blaise, and he even continued giving him tips while they were playing each other.

He even deflected the almost-unnoticeable barbs that Blaise sent Harry’s direction.

Blaise was… okay. He was smooth and reminded Harry of melted chocolate in how he moved and talked. Not melted chocolate as in chocolate-bar-left-on-asphalt-all-summer-day melted, but melted as in melted-on-purpose-for-a-recipe melted.

After several rounds of chess, the boys prepared for bed. Harry’s bed was next to the glass window that looked out into the lake. It was bigger, so much bigger than anything he had ever slept on, and softer, and more comfortable, and Harry curled up contently in the thick, fuzzy green blankets…

And failed to sleep.

He was too comfortable.

He tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep, until sometime- it had to’ve been hours!- he finally fell asleep.

Just in time, it seemed, for him to get up again.

He crawled out of bed, before either Jett or Blaise were stirring, and readied for the day. He pulled on his school robes and left.

It was Friday, but he didn’t have class since literally what would be the point. Classes would start the next Monday, and in the meantime, Harry would learn the layout of the castle.

There was a handful of older students up in the common room playing a card game as he left, and one of them gave him a puzzled look. Harry just shrugged at them and left, heading out the way he remembered.

The corridors were the next best thing to abandoned, and Harry’s footsteps bounced off the stone walls. They weren’t loud, but he quietly cursed the floppy, over-sized, duct-taped trainers that kept him from being able to walk as quietly as he would wish to. Magical flames crackled on torches, ever-burning and never to go out. A long-haired white cat walked past him, and the occasional portrait that low in the dungeons waved at him. At one point he walked past a portrait of a fruit bowl and a stack of barrels (was that a badger on one of them? Best remember that, just in case) and then he ascended the stairs into the entrance hall. The doors to the Great Hall were wide open, and there was an assortment of students already there- mostly Ravenclaws, with some of the early-rising Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, and a scattered handful of Gryffindors that were nodding off into their food and yawning and occasionally grunting out what might have been attempts at communicating.

Harry slid into the spot at the end of the Slytherin table closest to the doors of the Great Hall. He dished some porridge into his bowl, stirred in some cinnamon and brown sugar, and poured himself a goblet of milk from the nearby pitcher of milk. He drank some sips of his milk while waiting for his porridge to cool, and he glanced around the hall.

There were a few people watching him, he saw. A couple of the more lucid Gryffindors, and some of the older Slytherins. A third year with long dark hair and pale, creamy skin, in particular, was staring at him while she ate her fruit.

Harry glanced at another girl- one with black hair- as she walked towards him.

“Don’t mind Anemone,” she said, smiling at him, a flash of white teeth against tawny-bronze skin. “She’s always staring at someone for some reason or another.”

Harry nodded, and then noticed her eyes.

They were the blue of a cloudless, sunny autumn sky- the kind where the heavens above went on towards the horizon for ever and ever.

They stood out bright and clear against her skin.

And then she was walking away, and he was watching her take a seat next to the creamy-skinned girl- Anemone, he amended. The two girls laughed together, and sat with their sides pressed against each other.

Harry jumped when Tracey and Jett sat down next to him.

“I was worried when you weren’t there when I got up,” Jett said, and Harry stared at him.

“You were?” he asked, and Jett nodded.

“Yeah. It’s no secret… There are a lot of students in Slytherin who don’t like you,” he replied.

Harry nodded.

“They’re upset you’re the reason their Dark Lord fell,” Tracey added, putting scrambled eggs and bacon on her plate with enthusiasm and accidentally dumping some eggs into Harry’s porridge. “Oops, sorry. Are you one of those that doesn’t like your foods touching? Ivy hates it when even the smallest smidgen of gravy gets on her beans.”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry replied, but Tracey used her clean spoon to fish the egg out of his porridge and drop it onto her plate. Jett was much more calmly adding fruit to his honeyed porridge.

“Anyways, how did you get up here without help? We had to ask Calista Summerbell for help,” he said, and Harry shrugged.

“I just remembered the way,” he replied, and Jett pointed his spoon at Harry.

“We need to stick with this one,” he told Tracey, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“What are you going to do today?” Tracey asked the two boys through a mouthful of eggs. Jett winced.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full; it’s gross,” he said. “And I have no idea.”

“I was going to go walk around the school,” Harry added, pushing his emptied bowl away from him.

“Ooh, can we come with you? Get a head start on all the other first years, maybe find some cool room to be a secret base,” Tracey asked, and Harry shrugged.

“Sure,” he replied, and Tracey grinned and inhaled her food at a faster rate while Jett just watched in dismay.

“She’s hopeless,” he moaned.


	2. Maybe the children of a lesser god- part two

**Summary: From within the intrigue and drama of Slytherin house, Harry must navigate the perils of his first year- friends, enemies, blood politics… and in the middle of it all, Lord Voldemort is hunting the Philosopher’s Stone hidden in Hogwarts.**

* * *

 

_ Maybe the children of a lesser god _

_ Part Two _

* * *

 

Harry, Tracey, and Jett had spent the three days before the beginning of classes almost solely in each others’ company. They had explored hallways and rooms in Hogwarts all over the place, relishing it being just the three of them surrounded by portraits and suits of armour, their footsteps bouncing off stony grey walls. The perpetually-burning torches lit their way, and friendly portraits gave them sometimes-dubious directions.

They learned never to trust the portrait of the witch in the fancy grey robes on the fourth floor. They learned that certain doors needed tickled on Saturdays and stroked on Sundays in order to be opened.

They learned to avoid the second-floor girls’ toilet and its accompanying hallway, because that’s where Moaning Myrtle lurked.

The Bloody Baron enjoyed spending his time in dusty old classrooms, and he would reminisce with a raspy voice to the student passing by about his days in that classroom.

Twice Filch escorted them from whichever corridor they were in, and they accidentally went down the forbidden corridor, where it looked like it really wasn’t being renovated.

After three days of just the three eleven-year-olds and the sprawling stone corridors, class started.

Harry woke up the day of, his heart fluttering in his chest and his breath a little short. He squirmed out of bed and hurried over to Jett’s bed, where he flung the bedhangings open and shoved Jett’s shoulder.

“Mwurphua,” Jett said.

Harry shoved again.

“Time to get up,” he said, and Jett rolled over with a grunt.

“Leafmuhloh,” he said.

Harry sighed, and then turned and got himself ready for the day alongside Blaise, who looked kind of like a shadow with black hair, black robes, and dark skin until he belted his robes with a Slytherin green leather belt.

“Are you nervous for classes?” Blaise asked as the two of them walked up the spiral staircase towards the common room, book bags slung over their shoulders.

“No,” Harry replied while his heart was still fluttering in his chest and his hands grew clammier by the minute.

Blaise nodded, giving no indication of whether or not he believed Harry.

“I’m not nervous at all,” he said. “My tutors already taught me most of the first year material, according to my mother.”

Blaise and Harry left the common room together and began walking towards the Great Hall. Blaise walked with the self-assured, smooth stride of the noble purebloods, with his chin ever-so-slightly in the air.

At the armour with the huge broadsword, Blaise took a left.

“Blaise, wait,” Harry said. “That’s the wrong way.”

“I think I know the way well enough by now,” Blaise replied, and Harry sighed.

“The older students say that the way to the Great Hall is different on Mondays, and you have to go right instead of left,” he replied, but Blaise stood where he was.

“It is most likely a practical joke,” the dark-haired boy said, and he gestured with his hand for Harry to follow him.

Harry just shrugged and took a right. He walked past the fruit bowl painting and the stack of barrels with a badger symbol, and was in the Great Hall in two minutes flat. He took his seat, dished up his usual porridge, and waited.

Tracey and Jett arrived in the Great Hall with a group of third years. They sat down next to Harry, and Tracey loaded her plate up with food.

“Do you know where Blaise is?” Jett asked, and Harry shrugged and continued eating, forcing his hands to not shake.

Blaise walked into the Great Hall fifteen minutes later, just as schedules were being passed around. He strode over to the table with a disgruntled expression, and sat with Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Harry took the piece of parchment from Professor Snape, who was scrutinizing him with dark eyes.

Harry scrutinized the professor back- the man was tall, but with slightly gawky limbs, almost as though his body hadn’t ever quite caught up with the limbs. He had a hooked nose and dark eyes, and his lank dark hair was parted on the left, leaving the right side to threaten to fall in his face.

There was something in those dark eyes that Harry didn’t trust, and something that he did.

So Harry just looked down at his parchment, and he tracked the man’s movement out of the corner of his eyes and with the cat’s feet tiptoeing up his back.

“Charms with Ravenclaw first,” Jett commented, looking over the schedule.

Harry nodded, and looked over at the blue-clad table.

All the tables in the hall, when looked at from far enough away, were almost gradient-like. Towards the doors of the Great Hall sat the younger years, who hadn’t had as much time to acquire the necessary materials with which to accessorize their plain black uniforms, and towards the High Table sat the older years, some of which had ‘accessorized’ to the extreme that they didn’t even bother with the plain black uniform robes, and were just wearing robes in their House colors- and they weren’t even in the same style as the normal black uniform robes.

At the plainer end of the Ravenclaw table sat the first years, and as Harry watched, one of the older Ravenclaws pulled a book from a first year’s hands and shoved food in front of them.

Tracey finished eating her food a couple minutes before Jett finished at his more refined, sedate eating pace. With that taken care of, the three Slytherins stood up and left the hall, taking schedules and book bags.

Tracey skipped through the halls, skipping ahead and then skipping back to Jett and Harry. They crossed paths with a group of older Hufflepuff students who were all eating toast and heading, Harry guessed, for the North Tower.

At least, it sure looked like that one Hufflepuff had a gas mask, and from what Harry had heard of Divination, that was likely the only class located up that would require one.

The three Slytherins weren’t the first students in the classroom. A boy with a Ravenclaw pin sat at the back of the classroom, his nose buried in a book. He had shaggy brown hair and light skin with light freckles that made him look almost sandy.

The boy glanced up from his book to look at the three newcomers to the room, and then looked back down at at.

Harry, Tracey, and Jett found seats in the middle of the classroom together. As Harry set his bookbag on the table and sat down on the uncomfortable wooden chair, he repeated a mantra in his head:

_ Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up. _

It was a good mantra. It was a mantra he had used many times before.

Maybe ten minutes later, the rest of the class arrived, along with Professor Flitwick, who stood on his desk and began to call register.

The boy with sandy skin answered to the name Terry Boot, and counting him, there were only six Ravenclaws total- Terry, a girl with a round face and warm brown skin named Padma Patil, a girl with a mane of fiery red hair and ivory skin named Morag MacDougal, a small girl with ashen skin and big, dark eyes named Lisa Turpin, a forgettable-looking boy named Michael Corner who had fair skin and brown hair, and Anthony Goldstein who had dark, curly hair almost as messy as Harry’s and rosy skin.

“Welcome, welcome! Welcome to your first Charms class! As you might already know, I am Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House! Sadly, we won’t be using our wands in here until October, so you can stow them safely away. If you do not have a suitable holster, I would recommend you write your guardians for one! Wands safely stowed?”

The class nodded, and Professor Flitwick continued, flicking his wand at the chalkboard in the front of the room. Writing began to scrawl across it.

“There are many safety measures to take with your wands. You must never point them at another person unless you intend to use it. Wands can be deadly weapons, but they are also a witch or wizard’s most useful, versatile tool. Respect them! Respect your fellow people by not pointing your potentially deadly weapon at them without their consent!”

The hour of Charms was spent in a similar vein, with Professor Flitwick going over all the various bits of wand safety and charm safety- never attempt a newly-learned spell without proper supervision, never use magic on another person unless they were dying or you had consent… All incredibly reasonable pieces of advice.

“We have Transfiguration with Hufflepuff next,” Jett said, folding his schedule back up and slipping it into the pocket of his robe. The herd of Slytherin eleven-year-olds walked a few corridors over and a few floors up, and then headed west and down a rickety flight of stairs.

They arrived in the Transfiguration classroom only slightly before the Hufflepuffs, and unlike in Charms with the Ravenclaws, a very obvious divide between Houses was formed- the Hufflepuffs sat on one side of the room, the Slytherins on the other, and the students in the middle closest to the other House pointedly ignored each other.

There was a cat sitting on the desk- a grey tabby, with particular markings around its eyes, and Harry thought those markings looked familiar.

The cat turned into a person.

A girl with sun-streaked brunette hair gasped and dropped her quill. A brown-haired boy with peachy citrine skin dropped his textbook on his toe.

Harry’s eyes widened.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle snickered.

“Look at the mudbloods,” Malfoy murmured to Blaise. “So surprised! Almost like they’ve never seen magic!”

Blaise chuckled. Harry’s hand gripped the top of the desk tighter. The three girls sitting in the front of the room- Greengrass, Parkinson, and Bulstrode, if Harry remembered correctly- ignored the dropping of textbooks and gasping, except Harry thought he saw the blonde Greengrass look towards the sun-streaked brunette and smirk icily.

“Good morning,” Professor McGonagall said, standing at the front of her room with her shoulders back, chin up. “Welcome to Transfiguration.” She took a couple minutes to take register, and they began.

The class was incredibly similar to Charms in that they were covering only safety procedure. Don’t point your want at other people, don’t transfigure other people without their explicit consent…

The brunet boy often had his hand in the air, asking a multitude of questions. Professor McGonagall answered them all, while Malfoy snickered.

“Is something funny?” Professor McGonagall asked, and Malfoy adopted a smirking sneer.

“Not at all, Professor. It’s just so wonderful watching newcomers to our brilliant society learning about our birthright,” he said, his chin up.

Harry smelled bullshit. Tracey muttered as much.

“Miss Davis! Watch your language! Five points from Slytherin,” Professor McGonagall said, and Tracey sat back in her chair, arms crossed.

“So she can hear me whispering from all the way back here, but she couldn’t hear Malfoy? I call bullshit, again,” she whispered, and Harry nodded.

Transfiguration passed gratingly, Harry having to listen to Malfoy’s running bigoted commentary, and several of the Hufflepuffs looked set to murder him as the group of them walked outside to the greenhouses together.

Professor Sprout was waiting for them with a large smile. If Harry had been Malfoy, he would’ve described her as dumpy with ugly clothes. But Harry was Harry, and to him, her not-pretty features held a warmth and kindness to them that made the already gorgeous Daphne Greengrass look ugly next to her, and her clothes were dirt-stained and practical: perfect for working with potentially predatory plants.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome! Please, take a seat on the grass,” Professor Sprout said, and Harry, Tracey, Jett, and the Hufflepuffs all sat.

“Sit? On the ground? Where bugs and worms might get on me?” Greengrass sneered, watching Professor Sprout with cold hazel eyes.

“Yes, unless you wish to earn yourself a week of detention,” Professor Sprout said, and Bulstrode, Parkinson, and Goyle proceeded to sit. Crabbe and Blaise took a few moments longer before they, too, sat, and without peer support, Greengrass and Malfoy finally conceded and took seats on the grass.

“Harry, do you see any worms here?” Tracey asked, almost frantically looking around the grass, her long-fingered hands deftly parting the blades and then continuing.

“Here,” Jett said, and he carefully set two earthworms in Tracey’s cupped hands.

Harry found a nightcrawler, and he donated the huge hermaphrodite to Tracey’s growing collection.

As Professor Sprout discussed safety in herbology, the students’ legs and butts grew increasingly wet. The grey sky overhead roiled with clouds.

Halfway through the class period, Tracey, Harry, and Jett’s grand project was finished. Tracey, surprisingly inventive, had built a trebuchet out of sticks, rubber bands, and a spoon she had nicked from the Great Hall. She loaded the first worm, took aim, and let fly.

Tracey had fired five earthworms and two nightcrawlers at the group of snobbish Slytherins when finally she hit her target. A huge, fat nightcrawler hit Greengrass right on the shoulder, and she screamed while Harry hurriedly hid the trebuchet.

Professor Sprout looked incredibly like McGonagall as she took five points from Slytherin for disturbing class.

“But they threw a worm at me!” Greengrass exclaimed, pointing emphatically at the Hufflepuffs.

Ernie MacMillan, and blond boy with a weak chin, was immediately up in arms.

“We would do no such thing!” he yelled, springing to his feet.

“Order!” Professor Sprout shouted. “Miss Greengrass, Mr. MacMillan, please sit back down.”

“No!” Greengrass shouted. “There are worms there!”

“She could always sit on Crabbe’s lap,” Tracey muttered, and Jett almost snorted his amusement out loud.

After a few minutes, Professor Sprout got fed up.

“Miss Greengrass- detention, my office, seven tonight! Now take a seat.”

Greengrass glowered and sat.

They waited almost until the end of class, and then Tracey loaded the trebuchet again and fired it again.

That nightcrawler hit Greengrass’s head and got tangled in her hair.

Greengrass screamed and ran back to the castle.

The trebuchet remained undiscovered.

The three amigos subtly slapped hands under the table in the Great Hall, the trebuchet carefully broken down and hidden in Tracey’s bag.

 

Their first class after lunch was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor. The classroom smelled like garlic, the professor’s stuttering was incomprehensible, and he couldn’t control the students so Malfoy and Ron were spitting insults across the room at each other and Greengrass plotted the death of whoever kept throwing worms at her.

Harry, Tracey, and Jett held a conversation of their own at the back of the room, and Harry’s scar prickled throughout the whole class. The three of them breathed a sigh of relief when the hour was through, and the Gryffindors and Slytherins separated, the Slytherins headed for History of Magic with Ravenclaw.

Professor Binns was a ghost and he didn’t even take register. The Ravenclaws read, the purebloods sat together and presumably insulted newbloods, and Harry, Tracey, and Jett pulled out their History textbooks to find them much more helpful than Binns’s dry ghostly monotone.

Potions saw them in the dungeons with Gryffindor. The classroom was in an entirely different part of the dungeons from the Slytherin common room- thankfully- and it was chilly. The students could see their breath.

Professor Snape blew in and gave a captivating speech and proceeded to quiz Gryffindors with questions. Hermione Granger, a newblood with bushy, uncontrollable brown hair, answered all of them perfectly.

The professor took five points from her for speaking too loudly, and then took register. He sneered when he read off Harry’s name.

Professor Snape spoke with a silky quality to his voice, low and intense. He demanded attention- not with orders and sharp instructions, but there was a venom to his entire being that screamed ‘disrespect me and I will make your life miserable’.

So, naturally, the Gryffindor side of the classroom was entirely disrespectful, losing themselves a whole thirty points in one class period. Harry glared at them for interrupting the (really incredibly important) safety talk.

This was  _ the _ class that no worms would be thrown in, no goofing around would be done by Harry, Tracey, and Jett.

“We already have homework,” Tracey groaned as they left, Hermione Granger bustling past them and knocking Harry into the wall. Jett glared at the Gryffindor girl as she hurried off alone, but Harry righted himself.

“We’re going to need some extra reference materials,” he said, and Tracey stared at him, distraught. “This seems like the class that needs all our effort.”

“To the library!” Jett declared, and the three eleven-year-olds made their way up the main grand staircase to the room of books.

The library stacks scraped the ceiling two floors up. There were tall ladders scattered around it for reaching the uppermost books, and it was lit not by the everlasting fire of the torches in the halls, but with the soft light of crystals settled on tables and suspended in the air.

They walked by a table where Hermione Granger already had a baker’s dozen books out, most of them thicker than their textbooks. Jett made a beeline for her.

“Excuse me,” he said, and Hermione looked up. Her hair fell around her face, shadowing her eyes. “You look like you know the library. Could you direct us towards the potions section?”

Hermione pointed towards the librarian’s desk.

“Thank you,” Jett said, and the three Slytherins made their way over there. It didn’t take them long to find the potions section, and they each grabbed a reference book and sat at a table with a crystal emitting purple light.

The books were an assortment of ages- the three had tried to pull mostly recent books, so they ended up with  _ Potions: Basic Safety _ ,  _ Safety in the Potions Lab _ , and  _ Don’t Blow Up That Cauldron _ .

“One and a half feet of potions safety, here we come,” Tracey growled, opening her book ( _ Don’t Blow Up That Cauldron _ ) and beginning to read.

Quiet study chatter pervaded their corner as the three studied and planned their essays. Jett helped Harry plan his, as Harry had never really written an essay before. Bathed in gentle purple light, they wrote their essays- they hadn’t even needed to get any books beyond their textbooks, except “more sources can’t hurt” according to Jett. Tracey just grumbled and kept writing with her horrible handwriting.

It was approaching six and they had been in the library for an hour and a half when they decided they needed to go down to the Hall to get dinner. Maybe they could return after to finish working their essays. They put the books in the book return and left, walking by Hermione again, who was still absorbed in her thirteen thick books.

The Great Hall was noisy, especially since most of Gryffindor was already there. Harry, Tracey, and Jett sat near the doors and ate the beef stroganoff that had been cooked for dinner. They ate the creamy dish (with added noodles!) and then left the Great Hall.

They were walking back up towards the library, Tracey swinging her bag around and grinning. Their footsteps echoed off the walls as always, but there was something different about them.

Far off in the school, a huge dog went  _ boorf, boorf, boorf _ .

Their footsteps echoed off the walls.

“That’s a big dog,” Tracey said, looking quizzically around the corridor. “I wonder where it is.”

Harry listened.

Some of the portraits on the wall were acting a little weird, and Harry glanced behind them.

They ascended the large, sweeping main staircase. Portraits gossiped. Peeves was causing trouble a few floors up- they could hear Filch howling for the Bloody Baron.

They stepped onto the landing and walked the remaining fifty feet to the library without issue.

Hermione was still sitting at her table. She still had thirteen books.

“Are you going to eat dinner?” Tracey asked, and Hermione looked up and blushed.

“I suppose I should,” she said. “But my essay needs to be perfect, and I need to study my notes from today…”

Tracey shrugged, and the three of them went to hunt down their books again.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, who hadn’t moved.

Cat’s paws were still tip-toeing up and down his back.

In the stacks, they found a fourth-year Hufflepuff studying a thick book alone.

There was a clump of Ravenclaws huddled around a book from the Restricted Section.

The three Slytherins finished up their essays at a table with an orange crystal light, drying the ink and putting away the books within fifteen minutes of when they had arrived in the library.

They left the library.

The main staircases had moved- Harry groaned at seeing that- so they took a corridor and found a smaller staircase. They descended a floor, headed a couple corridors over, and they turned a corner into the hallway that would connect to the corridor that would take them to the staircase they needed.

“ _ Corpallinus _ !”

Jett’s limbs whipped to his sides. His mouth sealed shut. He fell over.

Tracey and Harry whirled around to face three older students.

It was over in seconds. The older students fired jinxes and hexes, and suddenly Harry and Tracey were on the ground, bleeding from several cuts. Tracey had been thrown into the wall, and Harry was pretty sure his ribs were broken.

And Jett was gone, dragged off by their attackers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pants at remembering to update this.  
> With love,  
> Kit


	3. Maybe the children of a lesser god: Part Three

Tracey was unconscious.

Harry had made his way over to her, and rested his fingers on her wrist. She was still breathing, her heart still beating, but a gash on her head was matting her hair with sticky blood. None of the cuts were bleeding too hard- they were just shallow things, one on her shoulder and a couple on her arms. Harry had matching cuts, but he was starting to feel light-headed.

Wait.

He was breathing fast and shallow, and his heart was pounding out a panicked beat, so he focused and tried to take a deep breath.

The burning pain in his ribs countered that idea.

Harry worked on slowing his breathing, taking shallow but slow breaths. His heart was starting to slow down.

There were footsteps.

His heart sped up, and he pulled his wand and pointed it in the direction of the footsteps.

The fourth-year Hufflepuff from the stacks walked around the corner and stopped the moment he caught sight of Harry and Tracey.

“Oh, Merlin,” he said, rushing over. “What happened?”

“There were, there were some older students…” Harry trailed off.

“Come on, you need to get to the hospital wing.” The Hufflepuff made a couple motions with his wand and muttered a word, and Tracey floated up into the air. “Follow- wait, can you make it that far?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, and the Hufflepuff nodded and led Harry down a few corridors, Tracey floating gracefully through the air like a ghost.

A few corridors over found the Hufflepuff opening the doors to the hospital wing and walking in. A witch was cleaning the beds when she flinched and looked up.

“Oh, Airmid,” she said. “Mr. Diggory, what happened?”

“He said something about older students,” the Hufflepuff said, levitating Tracey over to a bed and gently setting her down. The healer waved and flicked her wand and then started moving it in complicated patterns over Tracey. Her cuts sealed and the wound on her forehead closed.

“Wash the blood off- gently,” she ordered the Hufflepuff, and walked over to Harry and waved and flicked her wand at him. She tutted, worked complicated patterns, and Harry’s cuts closed.

“Stay right there and don’t move, Mr. Potter,” she said, and bustled off. She returned with a small cup- kind of like the plastic dosing cups that come with cough syrup. It had a small amount of some sort of potion. “Drink,” she said, handing it to him. He drank, and immediately wished he hadn’t as the potion burned down his throat.

At least the broken ribs healed.

In the bed, Tracey was stirring, and the healer bustled back over to her.

“Those bastards!” Tracey said, glaring at middle space and then looking at Harry. “Where’s Jett?”

“They took him with them,” he replied, and Tracey stared at him with wide green eyes.

“They- what?” She blinked. And then she turned to the Hufflepuff. “You! Teach us Defense since our professor is useless.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Tracey,” Harry sighed. “We don’t even know his  _ name _ .”

“Of course we do,” she replied. “You’re-” she looked at the Hufflepuff.

“Cedric Diggory,” he supplied, rubbing his head and looking at them with confusion.

“Teach us how to defend ourselves,” Tracey demanded. Harry sighed again.

“Please,” he added.

“Please,” Tracey amended.

Cedric looked highly confused.

“You two wait right here while I firecall Professor Snape,” the healer ordered, and Tracey readily consented, staring Cedric down while she waited.

Harry stood off to the side. The healer returned with Professor Snape sweeping in behind her.

“Explain to me, Mr. Potter, Miss Davis, exactly what happened,” he intoned, and Tracey meeped and turned to look at him.

“Well Jett and Harry and I were heading back to the common room from the library, and the main staircase had decided to move so we had to take the long way, and we were almost to the stairs when someone shouted an incantation and hit Jett with something and then I was unconscious and I’m not sure what happened next but Harry says they took Jett with them!”

Tracey took a deep breath and then deflated. Professor Snape turned infinitely-dark eyes to Harry.

Harry took a steadying breath.

“Is this true, Mr. Potter?” he asked, and Harry nodded.

“There were three of them. They said some spells- some of them cut us, one of them threw Tracey into the wall and she cracked her head on it, and another broke a couple of my ribs,” he replied. Professor Snape turned to Madame Pomfrey, who nodded.

“I will investigate into the matter,” he said, and then swept out. Cedric watched him go with a frown.

“So,” Tracey said, turning back to Cedric. “You. Teach us. To defend ourselves.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow. Tracey didn’t back down. Cedric looked at Harry. Harry looked back.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling hard. “Meet me at eight pm in the entrance hall tomorrow.”

Harry nodded, and Tracey nodded so hard she had to be getting whiplash.

Madame Pomfrey dismissed them, and Cedric walked with them down to the corridor with the fruit bowl. They didn’t talk the entire time.

“Well, I hope you make it back to your dorm safe,” he said, and Harry and Tracey nodded.

“‘Night,” Tracey said, and they waved at Cedric as they walked off. They found the correct length of wall, said the password- still  _ unicorn glitter exorcism _ \- and walked into the common room.

Various students glanced at them. Anemone and her friends looked at them with concern, and Malfoy and his ilk sneered at them.

They stopped by the doors leading to the dorms and lingered, reluctant to part. They realized at that moment-

They had been holding hands the entire way down from the hospital wing. Tracey had gotten off the bed and slipped her hand into Harry’s without a second thought.

They let go, but then reached out again and slid their fingers over the other’s palm and then parted. Harry let the door click shut behind him, and started descending, several mers looking in at him with curiosity in their expression. He signed the one phrase he had learned at them-  _ hello _ \- and kept descending the stairs.

He walked into the dorm he shared with Blaise and Jett, and stopped short when he saw Jett on his bed, reading, Blaise sitting at his desk.

Jett refused to look up at him.

Harry stood, in limbo. Go to Jett, or not, or just stand by the door for the rest of eternity?

“Call me Theodore.”

Well, that answered that question.

Theodore hadn’t looked up from his book once, so Harry didn’t nod or do anything that showed he heard. He just slunk over to his bed and went through his evening ablutions. When he finished with that, he pulled the curtains on his bed and then curled up under the covers.

 

The next day, he woke drenched in sweat. He showered, and by the time he was finished with his (luxuriously long) shower, it was barely four. In the morning. Theodore and Blaise were both still asleep, so Harry prepared for the day and then curled up against the headboard of his bed for about forty-five minutes. At about ten till five, while the dorms were still almost dead-silent, Harry headed up the stairs.

His footsteps echoed off the glass wall in a lonely way. There were no mers swimming by, but he caught sight of a dark shoal of fish rushing by.

The common room was deserted, and the plush green carpet- magically kept nice even after a thousand years of Slytherins had walked over it- muffled his footsteps, creating a deadzone of noise.

The corridors and hallways and staircases of the castle were deserted, and Harry hurried through them. When he reached the Great Hall, the only people there were a handful of professors and some Ravenclaws wanting an early start on the library.

Anemone, with her straight dark hair falling unhindered to her waist, walked into the the Great Hall and proceeded to walk over and sit next to Harry, who was eating his porridge plain that morning.

Anemone and Harry did not speak with each other. Anemone was just a presence next to him, her flashing silver eyes never lingering on one thing for very long before something else caught her attention. She stood and left for her own group of friends when Tracey entered the hall.

The brunette’s hair was pulled up in a messy bun, her bangs frizzed out and locks of hair sticking out weird directions. She had dark circles under her eyes, and she walked over to Harry in a stupor.

“Last night really happened,” she murmured to him, and he nodded. That morning she ate porridge, and they didn’t really talk much. They had been finished with breakfast for some time when Theodore walked in with Malfoy.

Harry watched them out of the corner of his eyes. Tracey didn’t look at them at all after she figured out who it was. Theodore glanced in their direction and almost immediately looked away, the tightening of his jaw and the skin around his eyes the only indication that he felt anything.

Harry and Tracey were the first ones to the Charms classroom, soon joined by Terry and then the rest of the class. Like the day before, it was safety lecture time.

The classes with the Hufflepuffs were just  the same as the day before- All the Slytherins except Harry and Tracey subtly slurred the newbloods, while the Hufflepuffs bristled and banded together.

The classes with Gryffindor were worse, almost. There were several times they almost escalated to all-out fist-fights, and one time when Ron attempted to break Malfoy’s nose and Harry and Tracey silently cheered him on.

That night, after dinner, Tracey and Harry met Cedric in the entrance hall.

“Hey,” he said, caramel-colored eyes flicking up and down, taking in their worn-down appearance. “Follow me.”

They followed, not speaking much. Cedric led them several corridors over to an old classroom that was clear of junk.

“I’m going to guess that you’ve already had all the safety talks from multiple professors,” he said, turning to face them. They both nodded. “Then I’m not going to bother going over the same things again and again. I’m going to teach you the first hex you would learn if you had a competent defense professor- a stinging hex,  _ hornta _ . That’s the incantation- fairly simple. The wand movement is even simpler- just a simple wrist flick so your wand finishes the motion pointing at the target. Try the movement alone, first.”

Harry and Tracey obediently pulled their wands from where they had been tucked within easy reach in their belts, and practiced the motion a few times.

“Okay, now I want you to actually try the spell. It’s too weak to have a visible effect, but you’ll be able to tell when you cast it successfully but the kind of rushing you’ll feel through your body.”

Harry and Tracey tried the spell a few times, neither of them getting it.

“This is impossible!” Tracey said, groaning.

“No it isn’t,” Cedric replied, crouching down in front of where Tracey had collapsed melodramatically onto the floor. “It’s your first spell. It’ll take a while to learn, but think- if you’re learning and doing spells now, how much faster you’ll be able to get spell when you actually start learning them in Charms.”

Tracey stood back up and rejoined Harry in trying to cast it.

By the time nine o’clock rolled around, they were both fatigued and neither had actually managed the spell.

“That’s fine,” Cedric said, leading them through the halls. “It won’t come immediately to you. I would’ve been surprised if it had. Do you want to meet again tomorrow?”

Harry and Tracey both nodded emphatically, and waved goodbye to Cedric and left him in the fruit bowl corridor. They returned to the common room, where the password was still  _ unicorn glitter exorcism _ . The parted and went down to their dormitories, where Harry and Theodore ignored each other and Blaise watched their interactions with raptor-like eyes.

Thus was the status quo set.


	4. Maybe the children of a lesser god- Part Four

That Friday, Hedwig flew into the Great Hall during breakfast.

Both Tracey and Harry’s eyes had dark circles under them- neither had been sleeping well since the beginning of that week, and it showed. Neither of them bothered socializing at all beyond each other and Cedric, and answering questions when called to in class.

But that changed when Hedwig flew in and landed between Harry and Tracey’s dishes of food with a piece of parchment clutched in her beak. Harry took the letter, ruffled her feathers, and watched her fly off, a spot of bright white against the whirling mass of mostly brownish owls.

“Well? Open it!” Tracey demanded, and Harry frowned at her before unfolding it.

_ Harry- _

_ What do you say to tea today at my hut at 4:30? Feel free to bring any friends you want. _

_ -Hagrid _

Harry smiled and slid the parchment into his robe pocket.

“Hagrid invited me to tea after classes,” he told her, and she smiled.

“That’s great!” she replied.

“You can come, too,” he offered, and she nodded.

It was going to be a good day, he thought.

 

He spoke too soon.

As it was Friday, they had three hours of History with the Ravenclaws- that wasn’t so bad. Tracey and Harry sat in the back of the classroom and passed notes to each other, complete with scribbled drawings. That wasn’t so bad.

It was the three hours of Potions with Gryffindor that was bad.

Harry and Tracey walked into the dungeon classroom at the back of the group, and sat at the back of the room. Professor Snape strode in, black robes billowing out behind him and his eyebrows furrowed into a stormy look. With a flick of his wand, white chalk scrawled instructions across the board. The potion was a simple boil cure- six ingredients, and it might take forty-five minutes at the most to make.

There was a crush to grab ingredients from the cupboard, so Tracey waited until almost everyone had theirs before she went to get them. Harry started heating up the water for the potion, and Tracey returned with the ingredients.

The two of them worked together- Harry’s cooking experience translated well to preparing ingredients, and Tracey easily kept track of the stirs.

That was before Neville Longbottom’s cauldron exploded, sending bits of congealed failure through the room and sabotaging all the other potions.

With a great scuffle of chairs and desks, every student scrambled to get out of the way. Some of them weren’t so lucky and ended up with bits of goo on them that quickly produced boils. Neville moaned, boils popping up all over his face and body. Hermione next to him wasn’t faring much better.

“Potter! Davis!” Professor Snape snapped, and Harry and Tracey whipped their heads around to look at him. “Escort Longbottom and Granger to the hospital wing.”

Harry and Tracey nodded, and started helping the two Gryffindors out of the classroom, Malfoy’s cronies snickering and probably insulting them horribly. They grabbed their bags- and Hermione and Neville’s- as they went.

Neville moaned most of the way there, and Madame Pomfrey bustled over when they walked in.

“Just a Potions accident this time,” Harry told her when he saw her concerned expression. She frowned at him, and then nodded, accepting it.

“Hey, maybe you could write us a note excusing us from the rest of class!” Tracey exclaimed, and held out her arm. “I got a little bit of the stuff right here!”

Harry fixed her with a Look.

She balked.

“Okay, okay, I didn’t get any on me, but we should still get excused!”

Harry would’ve sworn that Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes.

Hermione and Neville were quickly fixed up after being slathered with a cream, but Harry and Tracey hadn’t left. They stood around, and after Hermione and Neville were fixed up, Madame Pomfrey fixed the two Slytherins with a knowing look, one that asked ‘why are you still here?’.

“We don’t want to go back to Potions, okay?”

Tracey broke first, all big hand gestures and wild voice.

“It’s horrible in Potions class! Everyone there hates us!”

Harry lurked in the shadows while Tracey paced and shouted, hands flying. Hermione and Neville watched from their spots, eyes wide. They tracked her path, and after a couple minutes of ranting about Potions to Madame Pomfrey, she turned and stormed out, taking her bag and grabbing Harry’s wrist and dragging him along with her. He tried to flinch away when she first took his wrist, but he let her haul him.

A few corridors down, she finally let go of his arm, and he rubbed his wrist, walking a good arm’s-length away from her.

Tracey sighed, and glared at the grey stony walls.

“Let’s go practice the stinging hex,” she said, and Harry followed her to an out-of-the-way classroom.

Neither child could successfully cast it yet- but they felt they were getting close. Harry could feel a tingling in his chest when he tried, and Tracey said that she was feeling the same as well.

Time passed, as it always does, and when it was nearing four o’clock, the two of them headed out onto the grounds.

The grounds of Hogwarts were verdant and vibrant and the air around them sung. There were old pillars of stone that reminded Harry of pictures he had seen of Stonehenge. A light, energizing breeze blew through the sky, which was blue like a bluebird’s plumage.

Hagrid’s hut was rustic and simple- stone walls, each stone almost artfully placed in the whole, a thatched roof, and a large wooden door seemingly hewn from a single tree.

Harry knocked, but the door was incredibly solid and it didn’t make much noise, so Tracey kicked at the door, and Hagrid opened it a few moments later.

“Harry!” he said, his face splitting into a wide smile underneath his wild beard. “Well good afternoon!”

“Hello, Hagrid,” Harry replied. “This is Tracey.” He gestured at the brunette, who waved.

“Well, come on in,” Hagrid said, and Tracey bounced inside.

The inside of Hagrid’s hut was cozy and just as rustic as the outside. There was a large bed up against one wall, a fireplace devoid of fire and made of stone in a slightly different style than the walls. The floors were clean-swept hardwood and there was a rough-hewn table with chairs of a similar style at it. Harry and Tracey sat on the chairs, and Hagrid poured them cups of tea.

“How’s your first week of school gone?” he asked, taking a drink from his (bucket-like) teacup.

Harry and Tracey exchanged a look.

“How much gossip do you hear?” Tracey asked.

“I don’t think Professor Snape or Madame Pomfrey would’ve gossiped about that,” Harry replied.

“Well, we got attacked by older students and suddenly our other friend decided he didn’t want to spend time with us anymore, and the rest of our House hates us, the rest of the school hates us because we’re Slytherin-”

Tracey was going. Harry didn’t fully agree with her that the rest of the school hated them for being Slytherin, but… He hadn’t seen anything to the contrary.

“...But on the upside, Cedric Diggory is teaching us how to defend ourselves.”

“Cedric, huh? He’s a good boy,” Hagrid said, and Tracey nodded energetically, the way she did everything.

“I like him so far, but we haven’t even managed the one little spell he’s teaching us, it’s horrible!”

“Ah, you’ll get it,” Hagrid said. Harry finally took a sip of his tea, and looked down at it. He hadn’t ever had tea before, except for what Mrs. Figg made, which was watery and tasted slightly of cabbage. Hagrid’s tea, on the other hand, was strong and spicy- cinnamon, cloves, and a strong taste of honey. Harry smiled and took another sip.

“I like the tea,” he said, and Hagrid smiled.

“I’m glad you do,” he replied, and Tracey nodded her agreement.

“It’s really, really nice,” she said.

The smell of cinnamon, cloves, and honey pervaded the hut while the trio talked. Hagrid told him about some of his trips into the Forest- “the centaurs can be a little prickly, but they just like being left alone, mostly” and about how he one day hoped to work with dragons, although there was little chance of that…

Harry and Tracey listened to his dreams, and discussed theirs in turn…

“I want to be an Auror,” she declared, throwing her shoulders back and sticking her chin up. “I’m going to be the best Auror- better even than Mad-eye Moody!”

“That’s an ambitious goal,” Hagrid commented, looking a little awed.

“Well, I’m in Slytherin for a reason!” she replied, and then deflated. “Although I wish I had let the Hat talk me into Gryffindor… I think they’d be nicer.”

“You’d never sleep,” Harry retorted. “I hear they’re really loud at night.”

“Where’d you hear that?” she asked.

“Hermione likes to mutter while she’s scribbling,” he replied. “Don’t you listen?”

“No, not really,” she said and shrugged.

When it was time to head back to the castle for dinner, the two eleven-year-olds hugged Hagrid good-bye, although Harry hung back awkwardly for a few moments before committing to the hug. They walked through the green lawns, the air cooling as the sun drifted down on the horizon.

Dinner was as delicious as it ever was, and after they finished they headed for the room where they would meet Cedric.

“Hello!” Cedric said, walking into the classroom where the two of them were waiting and waving at them. “We’re going to keep working on  _ hornta _ tonight-”

“Again,” Tracey muttered, and Cedric fixed her with a perfectly pleasant expression.

“We will be continuing to work on it until you master it, and then we can start working on others,” he said, and Harry nodded and started practicing. Tracey joined him a few moments later.

“ _ Hornta _ !” Tracey growled. As the time had elapsed, she had grown more frustrated… but with that attempt, she dropped her arm and her jaw and stared at the wall.

“I think I just did it,” she said. “ _ Hornta _ ! I definitely think I did it- I could definitely feel the rushing you said I would, like some door had been opened or something!”

“That’s great!” Cedric said, his eyes lighting up. Harry smiled at her.

“Good job,” he murmured, and went back to attempting while Tracey cast the spell over and over at the wall until she was ready to fall over from exhaustion.

Cedric was shifting and preparing to call it a night, Harry could tell. The older boy had that restless look about him- and Tracey was almost asleep on her feet. Harry blinked, took a deep breath.

“ _ Hornta _ !” he said, and he felt some- lock, or something, some block that had been in his way, he felt it shatter, and then a rush- a kind of fizzy feeling, kind of like soda in his bloodstream- it traveled down his arm and out his wand and he just  _ knew _ .

He smiled, and Cedric saw and nodded.

“Great job, you two. You both managed it tonight, which is great, but we’ll still be practicing it until you can really get it- also, if you practice this one a lot, you can work your way up to harder spells!” The three of them left the room, and Cedric proudly waved good-bye to them when he reached his common room. Harry helped a Tracey with drooping eyelids and a yawning mouth to the common room, and then he headed down the stairs to his dorm. Theodore was in there alone, and watched as Harry walked in alone. Harry glanced at him, and Theodore opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, and then Blaise walked in and Theodore shut his mouth with a click and went back to reading.

Harry tried not to be disappointed when he went to bed without either boy saying a word to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For future information, I now have a Tumblr: kithawthorne.tumblr.com  
> You can contact me there if you want, or follow to keep on top of updates and things like that.  
> With love,  
> Kit


	5. you're a liar but i'm a coward so i can't throw a stone- part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lessons continue, strong women get mad, and Harry is nervous

On Monday, the common room password changed. For some reason, the new password was _ironic triangle_ , but Harry didn’t question it since Iris Newport had chosen it again.

Iris Newport was just unpredictable, he had decided, and that was that.

Over the weekend Blaise and Theodore had continued to ignore him- constantly reading, or carrying out hushed conversations, always turning away or sneering when they saw Harry or Tracey…

Harry and Tracey, not coincidentally, spent most of their weekend exploring the hallways.

In the evenings, they continued to practice with Cedric. On Monday and Tuesday they kept practicing _hornta_ , and Cedric even let them aim at him once or twice.

On Wednesday, he didn’t have them practice _hornta_.

“The next spell is slightly different,” he said. Harry and Tracey were leaning in close, green eyes eager. “It’s _torpens_ , a numbing jinx. It’ll make the limbs of the target grow numb, which makes it rather hard to do wand movements correctly- I know from experience. The wand movements are simple- just a flick to the outside with a little curlicue at the end.” He demonstrated slowly, and Harry and Tracey copied. He had them do just the wand movements several times, and then just say the spell several times, before allowing them to put the two together.

As they practiced the spell, they could feel the tingling that came with practicing come sooner than it had with _hornta_. The thing was, they also tired quicker- sooner than they were expecting, they were panting and sweating and their limbs felt heavy with fatigue.

Cedric smiled. “It’s normal for harder spells to be, well, harder and more energy-draining. Good job tonight, you two.” He placed his hands on their shoulders, and Harry held back his flinch. The three of them walked together through the corridors, and said farewell by the entrance to the common room. Harry and Tracey walked back to the Slytherin common room, muttered the password, and walked in.

Greengrass burst out with a nasty snickering when she saw them.

“Don’t you think you’re a little young for that?” she asked, flicking her hair over her shoulder and smirking. Tracey fixed the pureblood girl with a confused look, but Harry blushed and ducked away. Several other groups of Slytherins looked over, and noticing Harry and Tracey’s disheveled state, started muttering and whispering to each other.

“Isn’t a good thing you got away from them, Theodore?” Malfoy drawled, smirking at the mentioned boy. Theodore’s lips twitched in an almost-grimace, and then he nodded.

“What are you talking about?” Tracey asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Instead of answering, the purebloods twittered. There were a few people who started opening their mouths, upset looks on their faces, but around them they were nudged and quieted.

All but one, that is.

Eryn Hightower stood, her arms crossed and an enraged expression on her face.

“Slytherin!”

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at her.

She was well over six feet tall and with a strong jaw, sharp features, and that look of burning rage on her face cowed everyone.

“I thought you were better than this,” she said, her voice a dangerously calm contralto. “I thought we had honour.”

Everywhere her purple gaze rested, the Slytherins shivered and flinched away.

“I don’t want this to happen again,” she said, and she walked over to the doors leading to the dorms, followed by a couple of her friends.

Harry and Tracey followed suit, and everyone fifth year and younger tracked them with their eyes. They headed into their separate staircases, and Harry took his time going down, staring out into the dark lake. A silver-tailed mermaid flashed by, and then Harry was walking into his dorm room.

He was already curled up in his bed with the curtains closed when Theodore and Blaise walked in.

“They’re only eleven,” Blaise said. “You’d think we’re all a little young to be together like _that_.”

Theodore didn’t reply for several minutes.

“It’s none of our business what they do together, Zabini.”

“They’re practically mudbloods,” Zabini replied, his voice laden with disgust. Harry could almost see the expression his face was twisting into. “Eleven-year-old mudbloods. It’s disgusting, and they should be expelled.”

Theodore really didn’t reply that time, and Harry fell asleep with a stone in his gut. He slept restlessly, finally waking up at about four thirty and taking a shower. He readied for the day and headed up the stairs. Eryn Hightower was sitting in a chair, legs crossed and lounging back, reading a paperback novel. When he entered, she looked up, and then placed a marker in her book and stood.

Not only was she well over six feet, she wore _heels_. Harry almost shrunk back as she approached him, her heeled boots muffled by the carpet.

“I would like to apologize for the actions of the House yesterday,” she said. “They were out of line, and should know better.”

“Oh,” Harry said, blinking and staring at her, not quite sure what to do. Eryn just smiled at him, her features softening, her purple gaze not so intimidating anymore.

“If you want to wait for Miss Davis, I’ll walk you two up to the Great Hall, and you can sit with me,” she said, and Harry stared at her.

“Uh… Okay,” he said, and she guided him over to her spot. Harry sat on another chair, not relaxing, while she reopened her book and continued reading.

They didn’t have to wait long for Tracey to come up. She looked disheveled and a little bit miserable. Harry followed Eryn over to her.

A conversation similar to Harry’s and Eryn’s took place, and then the three of them were walking up to the Great Hall together. The usual Ravenclaws were already up, along with the normal smattering of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors and Slytherins. Eryn led them up to the end of the Slytherin table by the high table, and Professor Snape watched them sit down with a slightly furrowed brow.

Harry dished up his usual porridge, and put a little honey and cinnamon in it. Tracey was feeling better, evidenced by her loading up her plate with pancakes and drenching them in syrup.

“You never eat _anything_ except porridge for breakfast,” the brunette complained, grabbing a smaller plate and putting one of her pancakes and shoving it over to Harry. He gave her a slightly amused look.

“You put too much syrup on your pancakes,” he replied, and she shrugged and took her pancake back.

“Your loss,” she said, putting a bite in her mouth.

Eryn was watching them with a small, amused smile. She had fruit and bacon on her plate and was steadily making her way through it.

A few minutes later, two more seventh-year Slytherins entered the hall. The two girls- one with ashen blonde hair, and one with sleek, wavy black hair- walked over to Eryn and the two first years.

“Good morning!” the blonde said, smiling brilliantly. “Eryn, how did you sleep?”

“I slept well,” Eryn replied. “My companions are Harry Potter and Tracey Davis, and I invited them to sit with us this morning.”

“Hello, Harry Potter and Tracey Davis,” the blonde said. “My name is Freya Singer. The quiet one is Ravenna Moon.”

The dark-haired woman smiled a little smile and gave them a small, hesitant wave.

“Ravenna’s going to break the space barrier one day,” Eryn told them, and Ravenna blushed and tried to duck behind Freya, who countered by sitting down. Ravenna sat down next to her.

“We’re going to help her,” Freya added, putting a couple of liege waffles on her plate and adding fruit to them.

Breakfast passed nicely. The Great Hall filled up, but none of the Slytherins so much as _glanced_ scathingly at Harry and Tracey. Freya, Eryn, and Tracey did most of the talking while Harry and Ravenna sat and ate quietly. When it was time to go to class, the seventh years said farewell to the two eleven-year-olds and they went their separate ways.

When Harry and Tracey were alone, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle hunted them down.

“Just because Hightower decided to let you sit with her for one meal,” the blond eleven-year-old hissed, “doesn’t mean you’re special. You’re both still lower than blood traitors, so don’t get any uppity ideas in your head.”

Tracey growled and fired a stinging hex at Malfoy, who squeaked and brandished his wand back at them, shooting sparks. Harry grabbed Tracey’s elbow, and started leading her away to the greenhouses. They left Malfoy raging in the hall and entered the glass building with a _1_ on it.

“Why’d you do that?” Tracey asked, yanking her arm away from Harry’s grip. “We could’ve taken them! Did you see that? Malfoy only knew how to shoot _sparks_!”

“Yeah, and we _attacked a pureblood_!” Harry hissed back.

“So?” Tracey asked. “Shouldn’t this show that blood doesn’t matter?”

“They’re not going to see it that way,” Harry replied, and turned and stalked towards the back. Tracey followed him with a huff, and they sat down next to each other, arms crossed and not looking at each other.

They sat down just in time, too, because the next moment all the purebloods walked in, faces either masks of absolute calm or absolutely murderous. The Hufflepuffs followed them in not too much later, to Harry and Tracey’s eternal relief.

Herbology passed, the students too busy working with plants to worry about insulting each other. Professor Sprout watched them with an observant, slightly concerned expression on her face. It was like she could tell that _something_ happened, but she couldn’t tell _what_.

At the end of the three-hour block, Harry and Tracey did their best to blend in with the Hufflepuffs, which wasn’t too hard since the two of them hadn’t decorated their robes with anything remotely House-related yet. Susan Bones gave them a weird look, but shrugged and let the two of them blend in until they reached the Great Hall, where Tracey and Harry sat in their usual spots. They watched the pureblood first years leave for Defense, and then they followed, keeping themselves a little bit in front of the Gyffindors, but not so close as to actually provoke interaction.

They sat in the back, as was usual, and Tracey napped while Harry doodled on a spare bit of parchment, trying to ignore his steadily-growing headache and the steadily-souring interactions between the two Houses.

“You’re nothing but a _weasel_!” Malfoy spat at one point.

“Proudly!” Ron Weasley snapped back, crossing his arms and lifting his chin. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were sitting together away from the boys, the both of them gossipping or something. Neville Longbottom and Hermione were both sitting alone, and the core group of fighting Gryffindors was made up of Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and Ron.

Towards the end of the block, the two groups seemed to get tired of insulting each other, and icily (or angrily) ignored each other.

The moment class let out, Harry and Tracey were tagging along with Hermione to the library. She walked along quickly, but they kept pace- Tracey easily with her long legs, and Harry, the shortest in the year, even managed it without too much difficulty.

“What do you want?” the Gryffindor girl snapped when they were a couple corridors away from the library.

“We’re just tagging along,” Tracey replied, glancing behind them. “Although you wouldn’t be much of a buffer from any of the older students.”

Hermione sniffed, and when they got to the library, the two Slytherins split off from her to find a spot to do their newly-assigned Defense homework.

 

Walking through the common room that night after successfully casting _torpens_ was a challenge. They were both tired, and so many people were watching them walk in. The other first years were glaring, some of the older students were glaring…

Malfoy’s face promised retribution.

“What are you looking at?” Tracey snapped, and Harry tugged on her arm, trying to get her to leave the other eleven-year-olds alone.

Malfoy sneered at her and turned away, and Harry sighed. Tracey glared in Malfoy’s direction before she let Harry lead her away, and then they separated at the doors to the dorms.

That night, neither Theodore nor Blaise spoke a word to Harry, and the next day promised to be no better.

Harry woke in the morning to a dampness seeming to pervade the dorm room. The other two boys hadn’t seemed to notice it, so he just proceeded apathetically with his morning ablutions before he walked up to the dorm room, a warm little flutter of hope in his heart.

The little flutter of hope was murdered when he found not Eryn and her friends, but a group of boys he recognized as fourth years- cousins Conway and Emil Mallory, sixth-year prefect Sebastian Dunn’s younger brother Phillip, and best friends Grover Turpin and Gladwin Bulstrode.

“Good morning, Potter,” Gladwin said, his face contorted into a sort of depraved bastard spawn of a sneer and a glare. “I heard something incredibly interesting from my sister yesterday. You might know her- she _is_ in your year. Millicent. She told me that Malfoy said you ambushed he and his friends yesterday on their way to class.”

Harry swallowed, feeling his heart as it began to pound. He wasn’t sure he could outrun five older boys, but Gladwin and Grover at least looked like they couldn’t run very well.

“We want to let you and your bint know that shan’t be tolerated at all,” Phillip growled, approaching Harry, looming over the small boy. Phillip was tall- way too tall for normal fourteen-year-olds, and his face was cut with cruel features.

Harry shrunk away.

“If you raise your wand against any of your betters again, we shall find you, and we shall make you regret it,” Gladwin growled. “Now, best you be on your merry little way.”

Harry swallowed and slipped around the bigger boys, slinking out of the common room and then, upon reaching the corridor, began to run for the Great Hall. He slowed to a walk a little before getting there, and by the time he entered it, his breathing was back to a normal rate although his heart was still pounding the way a driving wheel with a flat spot pounded against the rail: loud and forcefully.

The Great Hall was slightly fuller than it normally was when Harry woke up, but his being delayed likely counted for that.

He looked at the food on the table, and his stomach rolled, but he grimaced and sat down anyway, although the porridge in his bowl was less than half of what he regularly dished out.

The five fourth-years were the next Slytherins into the Hall, joined by the rest of their year. It was not fifteen minutes after they entered when Tracey bounded in, looking for all the world like Christmas had come three months early.

“Eryn said she’d help us with our homework!” she crowed, and half the Slytherin table turned around to look. Several groups of people looked upset- enraged, disgusted, mildly offended, thoughtful- and Harry felt his heart skip a beat, a boulder drop in his stomach, and his entire train of thought derail.

All he could think was, _they’ll not like this_.

Tracey seemed to fizz everywhere that day. In History, she wouldn’t shut up, and though Binns never noticed, the Ravenclaws were incredibly disgruntled.

Harry felt watched all day. He’d carefully peer around corners, he’d dissect every shadow and every noise in his mind. All the bones in his back- _all the bones in his body_ \- seemed to quiver in anticipation all day. Every corridor was a place that had the potential to be bloody. Every time a pureblood so much as glanced at them, every atom in his body screamed at him to _just screw it and **run**_.

Tracey remained blithely unaware, and even though Harry flinched away every time she touched him, she kept chattering on, although the shades in her eyes seemed to say something different.

The couple times a ghost other than Binns drifted through the walls of the classroom, Harry almost screamed until he managed to somewhat get the hairs on the back of his neck to calm down.

At lunch, Cedric approached him from behind, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry flinched and put an entire four inches of space between hand and shoulder.

Cedric’s eyes were worried.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and Harry tried for a nervous smile. He thought he succeeded, and Cedric still looked worried.

“I’m just feeling nervous,” Harry replied, and Cedric’s frown deepened.

“Okay, well, anything I can do to help, just let me know, okay?” he said, and Harry nodded. After Cedric’s visit, Tracey shut up and watched Harry with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow- some weird combination of quizzical and skeptical.

They finished lunch, and then trailed behind the Slytherins and Gryffindors as they traipsed, barbed insults flying, down to the dungeon classroom.

Down to the Potions room, where chill pervaded all, even around the cauldron flame, and even the heartiest torches failed to chase away all of the oppressive shadows. The torch brackets in the dungeons were snakes- and all of them seemed to be _staring_ at Harry with piercing eyes. Most of the few paintings included snakes, or ravens, or snakes _and_ ravens and that couldn’t be a good sign.

The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, and then they were at the heavy door to the Potions room, and Ron Weasley was gripping the cast-iron door knob and shoving the ill-fitted door open with his shoulder, and then they were inside the classroom, segregated by House and by blood status, and then Professor Snape was sweeping in and instructions were on the board; Tracey retrieved the ingredients; Harry stirred; a quiet chatter pervaded the room until the Professor started cuffing the needlessly chatty around the head.

Tracey wandered off to retrieve the next batch of ingredients to prepare, and as Harry stirred, their Bye-Bye Blues potion turned the right shade of celestial blue- at least, Harry assumed it was right, it matched the shade of Hermione’s- and he wiped off the stirrer and set it aside and moved to prepare (mash- the most fun!) the blueberries while the potion needed to boil for exactly twenty-two minutes and seven seconds.

He was mashing the blueberries with the freshly-sterilized flat of the blade of his prep knife when the disks of his spine seemed to all shake, and he turned and watched as an unidentified _something_ flew through the air from the pureblood-side of the classroom and land with a small _splash_ in his potion.

Tracey was still by the ingredients cabinet. The potion smoked for exactly a seventh of a second, and then, with a sudden color change to a nasty eton blue, it exploded.

Harry didn’t even have time to think, but if he had, he would have thought: _Now I know why I’ve been so nervous_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls give me comments, i am thorsty  
> anyways, sorry for leaving you hanging for so long, i have a few chapters to catch ya'll up to where i've written. i'll try to aim for one chapter a day until it's caught up to me. and then i'll try to keep writing this, but my passion for HP seems to have gone poof as of late.  
> chapter title from We Fall Apart by We As Human.


	6. you're a liar but i'm a coward so i can't throw a stone- part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chemistry metaphors.

Harry woke up.

Regret, his arse. He was _incensed_.

And then he remembered that all the purebloods hated him and they all liked each other and they would make him hurt if he ever mentioned that thought aloud.

A shudder of terror made its way through his body, try though he might to suppress it.

He opened his eyes. The hospital wing was dark, although a crystal lamp lit up as Madame Pomfrey hustled into the room, bathing the stone walls and sterile hospital beds with a warm yellow glow.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said. “I think you set the record for most visits the the hospital wing within the first two weeks of school.”

That wasn’t a good thing to go breaking records in, although with his luck, he’d break his own record in future years.

“What happened?” he asked. “Other than my potion getting sabotaged.”

She looked prepared to rattle off an answer, but when she heard the second part of his question, she stopped in her tracks and fixed him with an almost unreadable expression, although if you had to ask Harry, he would’ve placed it somewhere between concern and horror, with a good deal of _what the hell_ thrown in for good measure.

“Your potion was sabotaged?” she asked, and Harry nodded.

“Someone threw something in it. I didn’t see who, though,” he replied.

“Which direction did it come from?” she asked. He clenched his jaw. She waited a few moments and then continued looking through potions, seemingly hunting for the correct one, but Harry could see a flask full of potion clasped tightly in her right hand, on the other side of her body from him. She wasn’t hiding it as well as she thought.

“Well. The potion had, as you can tell, an explosive reaction. If there had been any more of the… ingredient thrown into your potion, you would have most likely died.”

It was Harry’s turn to give the concern-horror- _what the hell_ look. She walked over and handed him the flask.

“Drink all of it,” she commanded, and he raised his eyebrows. She sighed. “It’s a relaxant. In case you hadn’t noticed, every muscle in your body is strung tighter than piano strings. Can you remember whether your potion was correct before it was sabotaged?”

Harry took the potion in his hands, and felt the tension drain out of everything except his spine.

“It was the same color as Hermione’s,” he replied, and then frowned. “Was anyone else hurt?”

“Not to the extent you were. Mr. Zabini and Mr. Nott, being at the table next to you, and Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson, being at the table to your front, received some minor injuries, but you received the most of it. They were in and out within half an hour.”

Harry nodded, and sunk back onto the bed.

“Miss Davis and Mr. Diggory spent quite a bit of time visiting you,” she said. “Miss Hightower, Miss Moon, and Miss Singer also dropped by once.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” he murmured, and his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

Madame Pomfrey let herself have one smirk before resuming her normal expression of perpetual mild concern.

 _That_ particular relaxant also doubled as a weak sleeping aid.

 

Harry woke up on Saturday morning around ten, having slept better than he remembered ever sleeping before. Tracey was there, sitting at a table, her quill scratching furiously at a piece of parchment.

“What’d the parchment ever do to you?” he asked, and she whipped around, green eyes bright with moments-away tears. She carefully reached over and wrapped her arms around him, and after a moment’s surprise, he reciprocated.

After the hug was over, she glared at him. Ineffective, really, considering the fact that she couldn’t hide the truly relieved set to her eyes.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” she ordered, and he smiled.

“I’ll try my best, but no guarantees,” he replied. She rolled her eyes and moved in for a hug again.

Madame Pomfrey walked in, and her face lit up when she saw the two of them hugging. She bustled happily over.

“No potions this morning- if you’re feeling coherent, you’re free to go after Professor Snape speaks with you,” she said, and then Professor Snape followed her in.

“Madame Pomfrey informs me that you claim your potion was sabotaged,” he said, staring Harry down with unreadable eyes and an expression mostly blank save for a slight tinge of his ever-present bitterness around his eyes and mouth.

Harry nodded.

“And that you did not see who sabotaged it?”

Harry nodded again. The Professor frowned, the line between his brows deepening.

“Madame Pomfrey also informed me that you told her that it was something thrown into your potion. Did you see which direction it came from?”

Harry could feel his hands grow clammy.

“I don’t remember,” he replied. “It was just- it happened really fast- I just… I don’t remember.” He trailed off, trying to project as much meek confusion into his eyes and voice and body language as he could. The professor narrowed his eyes, and then nodded and whirled around and left, his cloaks flapping behind him as he walked.

“Well, you’re free to go now,” Madame Pomfrey said, and Tracey reached down into her bag and pulled out a bundle of clothes for Harry to change into. He didn’t question how she had retrieved them, just took them with a grateful smile and slipped behind some curtains to change, leaving the plain pyjamas there to be cleaned.

The two eleven-year-olds left the hospital wing, and Tracey led Harry down to a different abandoned classroom than the one they normally used.

Except this one wasn’t abandoned. Cedric and a couple other boys were in it, and when Tracey opened the door and Cedric turned around to see who was invading their sanctuary, the older boy stood up so fast he knocked his chair over and rushed over to Harry.

Harry, who was reaching his limit for being touched that day, barely handled Cedric’s embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” the older boy said. “I was so worried.”

“Er… I’m fine, really,” Harry replied, and Cedric nodded, releasing Harry.

“I know, but honestly…” he ran a hand through brunette hair, and gestured at the other two boys with him. “These are my yearmates, Gordon and Presley.”

The two boys waved, and while they were incredibly different from each other, Harry had no idea which was which. Even though they were sitting, he could tell the brunette was awkwardly tall while the other one was more average in height with pale skin and dark eyes.

They were nice enough- the blond one, Presley (as Harry figured out after a while), enjoyed joking while the other one, Gordon, was less of a jokester. The three fourth-years had an easy chemistry that seemed to be thrown off by the addition of two more reactants in the forms of Tracey and Harry.

After a while, Tracey had decided she’d had enough, and pulled Harry away with her, her hand tight on his wrist.

He spent his time with a pit of dread in his chest, waiting to see what the fallout would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter is kinda short, what was i doing, honestly  
> gimme all the love, folks, i'm a needy bastard.


	7. you're a liar but i'm a coward so i can't throw a stone- part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noble houses are the worst, and the purebloods act weird.  
> No specific warning for this chapter except a reference to possible child abuse, along with the general "these children are in an abusive system" things that happen.

The days after the exploding potion and leading up to the first Gryffindor/Slytherin flying class were… tense was the only word for it. Something had shifted in the atmosphere of Hogwarts, something intangible and yet incredibly influential. Muggleborns, and even half-bloods, found themselves slinking around the school with their eyes open for trouble more and more often.The blood purists were cunning and underhanded, and they hunted in packs.

After a few days, Eryn and her friends appeared to stop associating with Tracey and Harry. Harry watched them in the halls as Eryn performed her prefect duties; whenever she caught sight of him, a brief glimpse of regret would flash across her face before she turned away. Ravenna and Freya followed Eryn’s lead in avoiding the two first years.

The first time Eryn snubbed them in the hallway, Tracey had approached her, asking for help with some particularly difficult Charms homework. Eryn had swallowed hard, turned on her heel and walked away, the eyes of many of the other students on her. Tracey had been devastated, and Harry had no idea what to do when she started sniffling, high little noises originating from the back of her throat, and then she was flat-out crying and he didn’t know how to deal with it… there was a girl crying in the hallway and then she was grabbing his robes and leaning over and burying her face in his shoulder. He gave her some awkward pats and everyone in the hallway was watching them. The hair on his arms, on his neck, they were all raised. Some of them disbursed, and then Cedric was arriving, some Hufflepuffs in tow, and putting his hands on Harry’s and Tracey’s shoulders- spots of warm comfort- and guiding them away.

“Hey,” the older boy said, his voice soft and quiet. He was focusing in on Tracey, he had gently pulled her away from Harry, and he was calming her. “Hey, Tracey, what’s wrong, can you tell me what happened?”

Tracey sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve, leaving a streak of snot on it.

“I- I wanted to a-ask Eryn for h-help, but she- she j-just walked aw-way!” she hiccupped her way through her explanation, and as soon as her final word died in the air, Cedric pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her.

“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay, don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” he murmured to her, rocking her back and forth, and Harry felt a small stab of jealousy in his heart. He started to turn away, but Cedric must have had super senses, because he released Tracey and then pulled Harry into a hug.

Harry didn’t relax into it, not for a few moments, but then he found himself melting into the embrace, relishing the warmth of Cedric’s arms around him.

“I don’t know why she walked away,” he said, and Harry pressed his ear to Cedric’s chest and listened to the vibrations of his voice. “All I know is that, sometimes, with the noble families, the heads require that politics come first. It’s not fair, and it’s not okay, but that’s the way it works with those families and I’m sorry that the two of you were on the receiving end of it.”

Harry nodded into Cedric’s chest, feeling his hair becoming even more mussed up. Tracey sniffed a couple of times and then voiced a small, broken “okay” before diving head-first into the embrace.

The other Hufflepuffs exited the room, taking care not to let the door-disguised-as-a-bookcase slam shut and disturb the moment.

Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling so warm and safe in his life as he did at that moment with Cedric’s arms wrapped around him and Tracey, the brunette girl crying into Cedric’s robes again, but her presence was still warm and comforting next to him. Tracey and Harry had long since had their last class of the day, so when the comforting session was finished, the three of them dove right into their self-protection studies, Cedric introducing them to  _ diletigo _ , a handy spell that would flood an area with fog for a minute or two. Tracey and Harry, after weeks of spell casting, had achieved the point where they could both successfully cast the spell they were learning within an hour or two. Mastering the spell still took a couple days, and they still couldn’t try any spells too powerful without draining themselves too quickly, but Tracey was ecstatic at their improvement and Harry was secretly pleased.

“ _ Diletigo _ !” Tracey shouted, brandishing her wand and causing an explosion of fog from the end. She produced enough fog to fill the room, and Cedric laughed. The three of them remained in their spots and waited the minute and a half for her fog to dissipate. Then it was Harry’s turn, and he said “ _ Diletigo _ ,” in a normal voice with much smaller wand movements than Tracey. His fog billowed from the tip of his wand, not quite filling the room and not quite lasting as long as hers had.

Cedric nodded and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be disappointed if your magic isn’t as strong as hers,” he said, smiling softly. “Everyone has different strengths and talents. I’m proud of the progress you’ve made.” He looked at Tracey. “Both of you.”

Harry might’ve been getting addicted to Cedric’s presence, to the teenager’s steady, solid presence in the room, to his kind words and ready praise. He was becoming accustomed to Tracey’s constant presence beside him.

Even with the horrible treatment by the blood purists, he loved it at Hogwarts. He had people who cared about him at Hogwarts, like Tracey, like Cedric, like Hagrid, whom Tracey and Harry visited the day after they learned  _ diletigo _ . The autumn air was growing crisp, and the pumpkins by Hagrid’s hut were swelling. The leaves on any deciduous trees had been brilliant colors, but an early frost had fried their leaves and now the ground was covered in brown husks of leaves. Stately evergreens towered, full-foliaged, over the rustic hut. Tracey kicked the thick wooden door in order to actually make enough of an impact to make noise, and Hagrid opened it, his face breaking into a colossal grin as he caught sight of them.

“Harry! Tracey! Come on in, make yourselves at home!”

The two first years stomped their feet on the rug outside the door and then entered the warm hut. Hagrid prepared them a couple of hot, steaming mugs of tea and they sat down, the man telling them about his work all over the grounds with the various creatures and plants.

“So a family of daileans moved in- beautiful birds, really, they’re the prettiest iridescent orange you can think of, but we just can’t have them on the grounds, even if they’re all the way out in the middle of the forest. Parents would get in a snit if they were discovered on the grounds- their screams are so loud they rattle the bones to bruise every muscle in the body- except the tongue, but if you don’t watch yourself you could bite it clean off,” he explained, and Tracey blanched.

“Oh,” she said, and quietly sipped her tea.

“They’re not mean, though, they only scream if they feel threatened- so long as you’re gentle and careful they’ll let you approach and even pet them,” he tried to save Tracey’s opinion of the birds, but it was already long past the salvageable point.

“I think they sound neat,” Harry piped up, smiling at Hagrid, ducking his head and then meeting the man’s eyes. Hagrid grinned again.

“They’re very neat. But enough about me and my job- what about the two of you? How’s Hogwarts been treating you?”

“I really like Hogwarts,” Harry replied. Tracey declined to say a thing. “But some people are really confusing.”

“Stupid noble houses,” Tracey said, frowning and hitting the table with her fist. Hagrid’s brow wrinkled and he frowned.

“Eh, don’t you worry about the noble kids,” he said, his features smoothing out. “Sometimes their heads of houses require they do certain things for the politics. Don’t mind them.”

“I’ve heard that advice a million times,” she muttered.

“Well, your first flying lesson is Monday, with Gryffindor, isn’t it?” Hagrid asked, and Harry was thankful for the subject change.

“Yeah,” Tracey replied, perking up. “I wish I could join the Quidditch team first year.” Her tone grew wistful.

“So you’re a Quidditch player then? What position?” Hagrid asked.

“I like playing chaser,” she replied.

“What’s quidditch?” Harry asked, ducking in his seat and blushing as Tracey whipped around to look at him.

“It’s only the best sport ever,” she said, dead serious. “I don’t care about quodpot or football or any other sport. Quidditch is the best.” She launched into an explanation of the many great parts of Quidditch, including a long-winded speech about which team she supported and why it was the best. Since Harry had money with which to do that, he knew he had an idea for her Christmas present from him- maybe he could use his (hated) fame and get Blythe Sumner, a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, to sign something for Tracey.

All thoughts and talks of Quidditch were stopped after dinner for their time with Cedric. They were still working on  _ diletigo _ , using their time towards mastering it and adding it to their repertoire. Sunday they spent most of their time either in the library or wandering the grounds talking about other magical sports. Every time the two Slytherins returned to the library, Hermione was still sitting at the same spot at the same table, still working her way through the same huge old book. Small twinges of concern fluttered in Harry’s chest when he thought of her, alone in the library with nothing but the books, sour Madam Pince, and the comings and goings of uninterested students. But Tracey continued hauling him around the grounds, and he probably wouldn’t have even approached her in the first place.

The times that Harry saw Malfoy, the blond boy acted weird- Harry could see something had changed in his eyes, in his mannerisms, but he didn’t know what and it irked him.

The older blood purists continued their harassment of non-purebloods, which naturally included Tracey and Harry, and if the two first years were in the same house as most of the purists, well, who would even care about two half-blooded little Slytherins that had no friends?

Cedric had to cancel their normal session on Sunday because he had detention. A couple of his classmates hunted Harry and Tracey down themselves.

One of the Hufflepuffs, a girl, stopped the two of them.

“Hey, you’re Tracey and Harry, right?” she asked, and the two Slytherins nodded. “I just wanted to come find the two of you and let you know that the reason Cedric has detention tonight is because he overheard a couple of fifth years talking really nastily about you, and since he’s, well, Cedric, I figured he probably wouldn’t tell you. Anyways, you know you have us, too? Cedric likes you two a lot, so if we can do anything to help, just let us know.” She smiled sunnily at the two eleven-year-olds and strode off, her male companion rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, she’s always like that,” he said, and followed her away, leaving two dumbstruck Slytherin first years behind them in the corridor.

“Well, don’t just stand there looking like fools,” a portrait of a fool said. “Go release your friend from his imprisonment!”

Tracey and Harry glared at him and then hurried off, heading straight for where a group of girls- and some boys- from all houses liked to congregate. They lurked at the edges until they heard what they wanted to hear.

“Cedric Diggory got detention from Flitwick for attacking a couple of Slytherins unprovoked!” A Gryffindor girl said to a Slytherin girl, who scowled.

“The filthy half-breed’s probably trying to cull favor from a noble family,” the other girl replied. “No way did Cedric Diggory attack anyone. He is more laid back than anyone I have ever met.”

“He’s never had a detention before!” a Hufflepuff girl interjected.

The two first years hurried off with the information they needed and set up camp outside of Professor Flitwick’s classroom. They were there, playing tic-tac-toe and hangman with each other, for an hour and a half until the door opened and Cedric and Professor Flitwick left the classroom.

When Cedric saw them, his eyes widened.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked as Tracey threw her arms around his torso.

“We heard you had detention,” she said, and he smiled and rubbed her back.

“Yeah, I did, nothing too serious,” he replied.

“Cedric you have never had a detention before,” Harry said flatly, all in one breath. The teenager looked amused.

“And where did you learn this information?” he asked.

“Gossip loop,” Tracey replied, and Cedric chuckled.

“Of course. Where else? Come on, you two,” he said, guiding Harry and Tracey away from the Charms classroom and leaving Professor Flitwick standing there with a contemplative look in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and drop me a comment and a kudos if you did!  
> With love,  
> Kestrel


	8. you're a liar but i'm a coward so i can't throw a stone- part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: Slytherins are inappropriate assholes, Slytherins are assholes in general, eleven-year-olds do dangerous stunts

Harry rolled over in his bed, pulling the blankets closer around himself. Cold was oozing into the Slytherin dormitories from the lake, and unlike the dorms of the upper years, the first-year dorms weren’t layered with the same frosting of heating charms that had been left by generations of students. That left Harry to want to stay as in bed as a warm little sushi roll all day, but unfortunately, he couldn’t, since it was Monday and he had classes.

He was awake before the other boys (as if that was a surprise) and after extricating himself from his blankets, he padded over to the bathroom with thickly-socked feet and proceeded to take a long shower, letting the hot water scald his shoulders until he had to turn it off or risk burns. By then, the bathroom was well filled with steam and temporarily warmed up, so he dried off, dressed, grabbed his bag, and headed upstairs.

Esme, one of Eryn’s younger sisters, was curled up in a chair with a paperback. She glanced up when Harry entered the common room, and nodded curtly before looking back down at her novel. Her hair was a good deal shorter than her older sister’s, cut off at her shoulders and held back in a half-pony. At least she was still acknowledging him.

The walk to the Great Hall was quiet and peaceful, although the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end the entire time.

He scanned the dozen or so students at the Slytherin table. Tracey wasn’t there, so he walked to the end closest the doors and sat down to eat breakfast. She joined him not two minutes later, sitting down across from him with a strip of bacon already halfway to her mouth.

“First flying lessons are today,” she said in-between bites. “You excited?”

“Not really,” he replied, stirring his porridge. “Something’s going to happen, or I’m a Gryffindor.”

“You’re definitely not a Gryffindor at all, so I suppose that leaves something then,” she mused, waving her fork in the air absent-mindedly. “I wonder what that something will be?”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Oh well,” she laughed, spearing a chunk of cantaloupe on the tines of the fork. “It’s flying class! Anything could go wrong! Maybe Malfoy falls off his broom and breaks his arm.”

Harry lowered the eyebrow.

The dull roar of the chatter intensified as more Gryffindors joined breakfast. Hermione and Neville were sitting alone at the end of their table, like normal. The girl had her hair pulled back into a bun as much as it possibly could be and she was reading from a book propped up on a serving bowl. The boy had dark circles under his eyes and he had forgotten his cloak, it looked like. He was paying rapt attention as Hermione presumably read outloud.

“You’re staring at the Gryffindor table,” Tracey said.

“Oh,” Harry replied. “Just looking at Neville and Hermione.”

“At least their house likes them,” she muttered, hunching her shoulders and glaring up the table. Some of the older purebloods sneered back at her, making kissy-kissy motions and lewd hand-signs and then laughing. Sebastian Dunn, one of the sixth-year prefects, was walking by and smacked one of the boys making lewd hand-signs on the back of the head with one of his textbooks. The boy yelped and glared at Sebastian, but Sebastian glared back. He said some words- nothing Tracey and Harry could hear- and then continued on.

The two first-years chose that moment to stand, grab their things, and leave.

“Wonder why he did that,” she mused as they left the Hall. Harry had an idea, but he just shrugged. “Anyways, we have Charms in… an hour and a half. Joy.”

“Maybe we could go to the library,” Harry suggested, and it was Tracey’s turn to shrug.

“Why not? Library-ho!” She reached out with a hand and tapped Harry’s arm. “Tag!”

Harry stood there blankly for a moment before what had happened sunk in, and then he was chasing Tracey up the stairs. She had a major height advantage on him, taking the stairs two at a time and able to fly down the hallway with long strides. Too bad for her, what he lacked in height he more than made up for in endurance. She started to slow down, breathing hard, but he kept the same pounding pace and finally caught up with her outside the library doors. Both were breathing heavily, although she was fairly more winded than he was. She closed her eyes and leaned into the coolness of the wall. He watched her, waiting for her to stop leaning, and when she did, they entered the library together.

The two of them practically had a table of their own, they had spent enough time there. It was near Hermione’s table, actually, and it was a little odd not to see the brown-haired witch sat there with her homework and her books.

The two of them spent their time there with the books they had left off with. Tracey was absorbed in a book about magical law enforcement while Harry was reading a book on magical culture- it was a rather dry book, and appeared rather biased.

Time was killed, Tracey fidgeted a lot, and then they had to go. Tracey took both library books back to the return spot and Harry grabbed both their bags, meeting her at the door and handing her bag back to her. She slung the strap over her shoulder and they walked off for the Charms corridor together.

The six Ravenclaw first years were already in the classroom, seated together. Theodore and Blaise were there as well, talking in low tones in the back. Harry and Tracey walked back to their usual seats through the near-silence of the room and they pulled out their notes sheets and books.

The rest of the Slytherins arrived about a minute or so before class began, followed by Professor Flitwick exiting his office.

“Cutting a little close, don’t you think?” Michael Corner asked them, and Malfoy sneered back.

“A little over-eager, don’t you think?” Greengrass said to Parkinson, and the two girls giggled.

“There’s nothing wrong with being early to class,” Lisa Turpin said, calmly flipping a page in her book.

“Okay!” Professor Flitwick said, clapping his hands together and climbing up on his book-chair. “We’re going to begin learning actual spells today. Who knows which spells I’ll be teaching you first?”

The purebloods took their seats, Greengrass sighing and rolling her eyes. “You always teach  _ lumos _ and  _ nox _ first.” She flicked her wand, lighting it, and then flicked it again, extinguishing the light.

“Wrong!” the professor replied, glee lighting up his face. “After gathering student feedback, I’ve decided to start with something a little different this year-  _ ebullarumio _ !”

“ _ Bubbles _ !?” Morag MacDougal gasped, and then she covered her mouth with her hands and shrunk into her chair.

“Correct, Miss MacDougal. Bubbles. The spell is simple- you just say  _ ebullarumio _ , and then the color word of your choice- or you can just say  _ ebullarumio _ without a color word and have yourself an assortment of bubbles.” He flicked his wand at the chalkboard, and the chalk began writing words. “I’m putting the color words and their assorted color on the board for you. The wand motion is just a swirl and a swish.” He held up his wand and demonstrated the swirl and a swish. “Everyone, try out the wand movements.”

Harry and Tracey both tried out the wand movements, but they were about the only Slytherins to, other than Millicent Bulstrode. The Ravenclaws all tried the movements.

“Come on, Slytherins! Try the movements,” the professor encouraged, and Greengrass swirled and swished sloppily.

“Five points from Slytherin for not taking this seriously, Miss Greengrass,” he said, and she sneered at him before seriously practicing the swirl and swish.

Once all the students had attempted it to his satisfaction, he nodded. “Now it’s time to try the actual spell. Go on, give it a try.”

“ _ Ebullarumio viride _ ,” Harry said, swirling and swishing, and his small cloud of green bubbles joined Tracey’s flock of blue bubbles. She held her hand out towards him, and smiling, he gently slapped it.

“Congratulations, Miss Davis, Mr. Potter, five points each to Slytherin for successfully casting it on your first try! Miss Patil, five points to Ravenclaw for successfully casting on your second try.”

Padma turned and looked to the back of the classroom, smiling at Harry and Tracey through her own cloud of purple bubbles. Everyone else was looking various shades of jealous, angered, and determined, depending on who it was.

Charms class passed in clouds of bubbles. Morag MacDougal invented a color word of her own (“ _ ebullariumio gingiberi _ !”) and created bubbles the same color as her hair, earning Ravenclaw ten points. Michael couldn’t let himself be outdone (“ _ ebullarumio purpura maculosa viride _ ”) and produced green-spotted purple bubbles.

Even the pureblooded Slytherins let down their guards, although Malfoy still looked reserved. The Slytherins all walked together on the way to Transfiguration, leaving the bubbly Charms classroom behind. Harry watched the Ravenclaws walk off, Padma and Morag laughing together while they continued spelling bubbles from the ends of their wands. Something tugged in his heart, and if it hadn’t been for Tracey’s continued presence next to him, he might have just left.

Nothing interesting happened in any of the rest of the day’s classes- not even the ones they shared with Gryffindor. So it was that at 4:30 in the afternoon, they walked outside to where two rows of broomsticks were laid on the ground. Gryffindor and Slytherin, having left from Potions together, were walking separated into their houses. There was enough room in the corridors for them to do that, thankfully, and they separated when they got outside, each house choosing a different row of broomsticks. Hermione and Neville were both walking in the back of the group, both of them several shades paler than normal.

Madam Hooch followed them out, walking along, all business.

“Good afternoon! Everyone, hold your wand hand over your broom and command it “up!”,” she said, striding to stand between the two rows. All the first years held their hands out and a symphony of voices said “up!”.

Malfoy’s broom jumped straight into his hand. All the purebloods plus Tracey and Harry and minus Neville all found their brooms rising without issue as well. Lavender Brown, Hermione, and Neville were the only three having issues- Neville’s just rolled listlessly on the ground, Hermione’s didn’t move at all, and Lavender’s was bobbing up and down between her hand and the ground. Lavender’s was the first of the three to rise all the way, followed by Neville and then Hermione.

“Good, good. Now, everybody mount their broom!” Everyone did, and Madam Hooch walked around, correcting everyone’s grip. The Gryffindors all snickered when she corrected Malfoy, telling him the way he had been doing it his whole life was wrong.

“But I’m left-handed,” the blond sneered to his housemates. “Bloody bird only caters to right-handed people it looks like.”

Harry felt the hair on his arms stand on end first, and then it happened- Gryffindor students started gasping as Neville’s broom rose out-of-control. The boy on the broom was screaming and gripping the broom tight- and then the broom jerked, rolled, and he lost his grip and fell with a crunch.

The students were silent, watching Madam Hooch hustle over to him, her robes flapping behind her and her feet smashing the grass in her hurry. Harry, who was nearest Neville, could smell the crushed grass.

“It’s a broken wrist- I need to take him to the infirmary- none of you touch the brooms,” she ordered, and then put her arm around Neville and rushed him off.

There was a glint in the grass where the Gryffindor boy had landed. The broom was still drifting off, rising higher and higher in the sky. No one spoke. The wind whistling through the towers was the only noise.

“Hey, look what Longbottom dropped!” Malfoy sneered, walking towards the glint in the grass. “It’s his remembrall! What sort of wizard needs a remembrall?”

“You give that here, Malfoy,” Parvati Patil said, stepping forward and holding her hand out.

Malfoy looked between her and the remembrall, and then shrugged. “No thanks. I think I’ll leave it somewhere for the squib to find.”

“You dirty snake,” Parvati snarled, striding forward. “Give it here and I won’t hex your nose off.”

“I doubt you know any hexes,” Malfoy replied, re-mounting his broom.

Parvati’s expression darkened and she pulled her wand out. Lavender grabbed her arm.

“No, Vati, he’s not worth it, he’s just a jumped-up douche,” she said, and Parvati lowered her wand as Malfoy kicked off with a cackle.

“I give him a 2.3 out of 10,” Tracey mused, watching him take off. “He’s a clumsy flier, and too much drama for my taste. Also, he lost points for stealing something and insulting Parvati.”

The class watched Malfoy leave the remembrall in a niche in the wall, the Gryffindors fuming and glaring at the Slytherins while the purebloods snickered and whispered to each other. Draco landed and was back in his spot just in time- Professor McGonagall was thundering her way out to the field.

“Brooms away,” she said. “The lesson is over.  _ Accio escaping broom _ !”

The broom’s valiant escape attempt was ended, and the students were herded back into the castle by Professor McGonagall.

“Poor Neville,” Parvati said to Lavender as Harry and Tracey walked by them. “I wonder if he’s ever going to get his remembrall back- it was his father’s, I heard.”

Harry and Tracey continued on to the library, but Harry spent that time with a ball of ice in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t eat much at dinner, shoving his food around on his plate. He managed a few bites of the succulent roast beef before dropping his fork.

“I’ll meet you and Cedric in the classroom,” he said, and walked off before the could say anything more. He left the castle and exited out into the sunset. He lit his wand and then found what he was looking for.

Malfoy had stuck the remembrall in a niche near a tree, and the walls of the castle were old enough that they would probably provide enough hand and foot holds. Harry dropped his bag, put his wand in his mouth, and started climbing the tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had too much fun making up spells.  
> Leave me a comment and let me know what you thought!  
> With love,  
> Kestrel


	9. you're a liar but i'm a coward so i can't throw a stone- part five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, bullying, physical abuse supported by systemic bigotry, you know, the normal stuff.

Neville Longbottom was beaming as he walked into the hall that morning.

Harry glanced over, looking at him through narrowed eyes as he skipped over to the Gryffindor table and started talking to his yearmates.

“Neville’s really happy this morning,” Tracey said, and Harry looked over at her and nodded. The brunette eyed the blond Gryffindor, and then turned back to her friend. “It looks like he has his remembrall back.”

“Oh,” Harry replied, shrugging and shoving a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. She squinted at him.

“You’re completely innocent in it, aren’t you,” she said.

He swallowed his mouthful of porridge. “Absolutely.”

She nodded. “That’s what I thought.” The straight face only held for a moment until she snorted with laughter and smiled at him.

“We should go to Charms soon,” he said as his dirty dishes vanished after he arranged his utensils carefully and precisely (he had learned that trick by observing the older students). “We might be late otherwise.”

“If we go now, we’ll be there before even the Ravenclaws!” Tracey complained, huffing and resting her cheek on her hand. It took her a few moments, but then her eyes  widened. “You didn’t mean that seriously.”

Harry shook his head.

Draco was not happy, and everyone knew it.

“Someone retrieved that remembrall. Whoever it was is going to  _ pay _ ,” he promised as the group of Slytherins walked from Charms to Transfiguration, Tracey and Harry lurking in the back of the group.

“Is getting revenge on whoever assisted Fatbottom worth stirring up the older students?” Greengrass asked, observing her sparkly green nails with hooded eyes and aloofness.

“Who said I would be asking the older students?” Malfoy asked, smirking at the rest of the group. “I will handle them myself.”

“Draco, you know literally one spell,” Parkinson said.

“I know cutting curses,” Malfoy hissed, and Goyle actually rolled his eyes.

“You do  _ not _ ,” he said, and Malfoy slapped him on the arm.

“Do not undermine me,” he ordered, and Goyle ducked his head for a moment.

Harry and Tracey exchanged a glance that communicated one idea:

_ Oh, please don’t let him figure it out. _

Professor Snape canceled Potions.

“A pity,” Greengrass said, pouting. “I was eager to see what sort of catastrophe Longbottom would cause today. After flying yesterday… Ah, I suppose we shall have to create our own entertainment for the hour.”

“Don’t talk about Neville like that,” Parvati snapped, crossing her arms and standing in front of the blond Gryffindor.

“Are you in love with him?” Malfoy asked, and Parvati looked physically repulsed.

“I’m eleven!” she retorted.

“Why else would you stand up for him?” Parkinson asked.

“Because you’re pathetic bullies and Neville doesn’t deserve you targeting him,” Parvati replied.

“Really,” Malfoy drawled, stepping forward. His shoulders were back, chin thrust out and standing to his full height. Too bad for him, Parvati still had an entire inch on him. “Tell me, how did the remembrall return to his possession?”

“I found it on my table when I woke up last night,” Neville replied, his voice quavering and stuttering in a few spots, but he held his chin up anyways.

“And how might it have made its way there?” Malfoy asked, glaring at the other boy (who also had a couple inches on him).

“Someone must’ve put it there,” Ron said, finally stepping to the front. Malfoy paused for a few moments, and then whirled and stalked precisely over to Harry.

“I wonder who that might have been,” he said, looking down at the smaller boy. “Did you have something to do with it, Potter?”

Harry felt his heart turn to tungsten hexafluoride and his throat fill with peanut butter.

He was pausing too long. Malfoy would  _ know _ .

“Why would I?” he finally replied, hardening his facial features into a decisive stone mask- something familiar, at least.

“I don’t know. You tell me,” Malfoy said.

“I’m a Slytherin. Why would I help a Gryffindor?” Harry replied.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. Beyond him, he could see the angry expressions of the Gryffindors. Parvati was so upset, her wand was in her hand.

Malfoy hadn’t said a word.

.

.

.

“You keep telling yourself that,” he said, turning and walking off. “We should return to our common room since lessons are done for the day.” The rest of the blood purists followed him, while Harry’s stomach felt like mercury: volatile and sinking.

Malfoy stopped in the hallway and turned back to the group of Gryffindors and half-blood Slytherins. He smiled sweetly.

“Harry, Tracey, for what reason wouldn’t you be coming with us? Surely you wouldn’t want to spend time with Gryffindors...unless…?”

“Oh, shit,” Tracey muttered. Harry kept his expression schooled and followed them, Tracey close behind him and hovering right by his shoulder, clenching and unclenching her fists. Malfoy continued glancing backwards at them as they walked, and then stopped and whirled around, wand in hand.

“ _ Ebullarumio _ !” he shouted, and a cloud of assorted-colored bubbles… scratch that, a  _ swarm _ , engulfed Harry and Tracey.

His body moved almost of its own accord. He could feel the sting of small bubbles popping in his eyes, and he could hear Tracey cry out, but his arm snapped in Malfoy’s direction, wand in hand.

“ _ Hornta _ !”

The bubbles tasted awful on his tongue, but he heard Malfoy’s yelp and cast again. He was rewarded by another yelp. He cast again.

As though provoked by a breeze, the bubbles dissipated. Malfoy was sitting on his butt, staring at Harry, his cheek swelling and his eyebrows lowered so far they shadowed his eyes.

“You will pay for this, you  _ bastard child of a half-troll mudblood _ .”

Several of the other first-year students gasped audibly.

Malfoy stood up and walked away.

The rest of the blood purists followed him.

“Bastard child of a half- _ what _ mudblood?” Harry asked. “Trolls exist?”

“They do!” Tracey replied. “They like to eat left socks, for some reason. Maybe we should sic one on Malfoy, pay it in our left socks.”

“I could give it some left socks. What do you want to bet the Gryffindors hate us now?”

“They already hated us.”

“Point.”

The two friends shrugged at each other, turned, and walked away. Their destination: the tutoring classroom.

The halls were abandoned, for the most part. They found one Hufflepuff girl studying in a window seat and a couple of Gryffindor boys playing chess in suits of armor, which were grumbling the entire time. Several cats sauntered past while the two first-years were walking, and the tutoring classroom was populated by seven cats, three owls, fifteen songbirds, and Trevor the toad. The songbirds twittered and left, the cats slunk off, and the owls swooped down to nip at the students as they went by. Trevor seemed perfectly content where he was, so they left him there.

“That was interesting,” Tracey noted, frowning at the bird droppings on the floor. “We’re going to have to ask Cedric to clean it.”

“Maybe he should teach us the spell and we should clean it,” Harry replied, and Tracey blinked.

“That’s a good idea. But what if it’s too hard? It might be an upper-level spell…” She trailed off, thinking.

Harry and Tracey waiting in the now-filthy classroom for Cedric, who arrived at about eight after five.

“Hey, you two,” he said, ruffling Harry’s hair and side-hugging Tracey. “What happened in here?”

“There was an entire council of birds in here,” Tracey blurted out, moving around energetically, arms swinging as she gestured for bigness. “Maybe there’s a bird revolution being planned!”

“There were three owls, five cats, fifteen songbirds, and Trevor the toad,” Harry clarified, pointing at where the toad had moved to the old sink. There was a small layer of water, courtesy of Harry and Tracey.

“That is very interesting,” Cedric replied, frowning in curiosity before pulling out his wand. “Let’s get this cleaned up-”

“Wait,” Harry said, reaching out to halt Cedric’s wand hand with a light touch. “You could teach Tracey and I the cleaning spell. That way we’d know it for in the future, just in case.”

“That’s a good idea,” the older boy replied, lowering his wand. “This spell was invented by an ancestor of mine, my namesake actually. You should only use it on stone- things you wouldn’t mind getting scratched up. The incantation is  _ lanrio _ , and the wand motion is like you’re scrubbing something in circles. You need to do the wand motions for varying amounts of time, depending on how bad the mess is. This one should only take a few circles.”

Harry nodded, pulling his wand out and pointing it at the bird poop on the floor. “ _ Lanrio _ ,” he intoned, and then moved his wand the way Cedric had described. It took maybe ten seconds of the motion before the bird poop started lifting, and a full twenty-two to have it all clean.

“Maybe I underestimated the time needed a little,” the older boy said, blushing and rubbing his head. “You did just learn the spell, after all. Tracey, maybe you could get the desks?”

It took Tracey a little less time than it took Harry to clean the desks off. Of course, there was significantly less poop on the desks than there was on the floor.

“Now we can get to the spell I have planned for you two today- well, after some review,” the Hufflepuff said, clapping his hands together and moving to the front of the classroom. “Both of you cast  _ infirmibus _ on me- not at the same time!” The last statement was shouted as Cedric’s knees gave out, the recipients of two not inconsiderable weak-knees jinxes.

The review lasted about forty-five minutes, the two Slytherins running through all fourteen of the spells they had been taught by the older student.

“For number fifteen, I’m going to teach you a variant of  _ lumos _ \-  _ vibrux _ . Any guesses what it does?”

“A light sword!” Tracey exclaimed, bouncing in place. Cedric laughed.

“No, not quite. Harry?”

“Something light-related,” the younger boy replied, shrugging. “It’s duelling-related, so maybe it’s a distraction?”

“Neither of you were right- it’s a spell that emits a bright, quick flash of light not unlike a camera flash. It’s very effective in the dark, so long as you’re wearing eye protections yourself,” Cedric replied. “The wand motion is very simple- there is none. Just point and shoot, so to say.”

Tracey immediately held her wand up. “ _ Vibrux _ !”

All three students couldn’t see much other than flashing in their eyes.

“That was… A little too much, Tracey,” Cedric said, shaking his head. “Normally you would’ve been taught  _ lumos _ before  _ ebullarumio _ in charms, since the bubble charm is a little more difficult, and  _ vibrux _ is essentially  _ lumos _ .”

Harry pointed his wand at the wall and closed his eyes in a preemptive safety measure. “ _ Vibrux _ ,” he murmured, and his vision lit up red for a moment. He opened his eyes, seeing spots again but not as badly as the first time.

“Would you mind if my friends and I studied here while you two are practicing that spell?” Cedric asked. “Professor Snape just assigned us an awful essay.”

“He cancelled our class today,” Tracey said. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he said, running out of the room and leaving Harry and Tracey flashing their wands at each other.

He was back a few minutes later, with Gordon and Presley and a couple of girls Harry vaguely recognized.

“You already know Gordon and Presley,” Cedric said, “and the girls are Eveline and Faith.”

“I’m Eveline,” the one with auburn curls and a light smattering of freckles across a strongly defined-nose said, waving. Faith, the blonde, also waved.

The five Hufflepuffs settled down in one corner of the room, the two Slytherins in another. Harry and Tracey worked on the intensity of their flashes, occasionally prompting grumbles from the fourteen-year-olds with the brightest flashes. When they only had twenty minutes left to get dinner, Harry and Tracey confronted the Hufflepuffs, who said they would be fine and waved the two younger students off. Harry and Tracey shrugged at each other, and then headed for the Great Hall where they decided to try the chicken noodle soup on their end of the table.

The explosion of flavors in his mouth prompted him to dish out seconds, something that had Tracey staring. The noodles were just right- nothing like the overcooked things that came in the cans of soup the Dursleys sometimes gave him when they couldn’t be bothered to give him anything else. The carrots were still a little firm but fully cooked and Harry just really, really liked it.

The library was their destination of choice after dinner, where they sat down at their table near Hermione’s, who looked at them, frowned, and turned away. Harry swallowed thickly and hunted down the books he needed for his history homework.

A couple hours passed within the library, the two kids bathed in purple light from the crystal lamp. The scratching of quills, turning of pages, footsteps, and the occasional question were the only sounds in the library. Hermione left before the two Slytherins, packing up with a practiced air. Tracey and Harry followed suit not much after her, in order to get some sleep before Astronomy that night.

Harry napped in his clothes for the two and a half hours until it was time to head up to the Astronomy tower. He met Tracey at the top of the stairs, and they headed out early for the class, finding their way to the top of the tower with no issue.

The sky was, thankfully, clear, so they spent the hour studying the constellations and peering through telescopes, occasionally breaking into discussions or lectures about how space (“the heavens”, in Professor Sinistra’s words) could affect spellwork. The chill of the night had many of the first years pulling their cloaks in around them, or cuddling close together. There was no moon visible, giving a gloomy look to the shadowed grounds. Something far off in the Forbidden Forest screamed. The students twitched every time it did that.

When it was time to be headed back to the dorms, the Hufflepuffs literally ran off, while the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors walked together towards their towers. That left the Slytherins walking down to the dungeons, alone.

The fine hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up when he realised it was just them and the blood purists. Professor Sinistra always followed the Gryffindors to their tower, to ensure that they didn’t just… not make it there.

Their footsteps and voices echoed off the stone walls, bouncing down the corridors and stairways. It was a fifteen minute trek down to the dungeons from the Astronomy tower, involving the spiral staircase up to the top of the tower, seven staircases for each of the seven floors, and then another two to reach the dungeons. Occasionally, the upper floors decided to rearrange themselves, so they would get lost for an hour on the way back some nights.

That night the upper floors hadn’t rearranged themselves, so it would just be the normal fifteen minutes.

Or it would’ve been, if they hadn’t been interrupted.

Harry and Tracey stiffened and drew back as the blood purists separated. Three third years were approaching them from the front. Harry glanced back.

Two fourth years were approaching with menace in their gaits.

Harry’s hands went cold, and he slipped his wand into his hand. After a few moments, he could feel Tracey do the same.

“Good morning, Potter, Davis,” one of the third years said. Of the group, Harry recognized Miles Bletchley, and the two fourth-years were Grover Turpin and Gladwin Bulstrode. “We heard something interesting today.”

“Didn’t we tell you, weeks ago, that if you ever raised your wands against your betters again, that we would make you regret it?” Bulstrode growled.

“Well, today our promise comes due,” Turpin said, his voice smooth and his expression a slight sneer.

Bulstrode flicked his wand, muttering a curse Harry didn’t catch, and a small shot of blue light hit Tracey in the arm. She yelped, clutching at where there was now a nasty cut.

Harry didn’t think.

“ _ Diletigo _ ,” he said, fog flooding the area for a short moment as he moved towards Tracey and grabbed her. She caught on, and cast a numbing jinx at one of the teenagers.

Two utterances of  _ expelliarmus _ , and Tracey and Harry were both wandless and the fog had been blown away. The blood purists looked utterly incensed.

“ _ Parvis _ ,” one of the third years said, swiping his wand surgically at Harry, who winced at the small cut that appeared on his arm.

“ _ Ictso _ ,” Miles Bletchley intoned, and Tracey recoiled as if hit. The other two third year apparently thought that was a marvelous idea, and being hit with that spell reminded Harry what it felt like the few times he had been caught during Harry Hunting.

It didn’t last very long, and the teenagers left with one last threat.

“Remember your place, mudbloods,” Turpin snarled over his shoulder, and Tracey and Harry were left, battered, to make their way back to their empty common room and down to their cold, friendless dorms. It took them a while to find a position that didn’t hurt too much so that they could go to sleep.

In the morning, when Harry woke up and looked in the mirror, there was a brilliant dark bruise blossoming across his left cheekbone. When he returned to his trunk, he found a package and a note.

_ They have the instructions on them, and don’t worry, they’ll automatically match to your skintone. They’ll cover up anything. _

The contents of the package were two small jars:  _ Fleamont Potter’s AutoMatch Concealer _ and  _ Euphemia Potter’s AutoMatch Foundation _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm seriously struggling to continue writing this. i have a few chapters already written, but... it's a struggle to write in this fandom anymore. especially this story, while being one that i definitely want to write... it's something i've gotten some negative responses to, people saying the sort of systemic bigotry i have set up here is unrealistic, and the kids's responses to it are unrealistic... it's hard, considering that i've seen this. i live with this bigotry and i watch people respond to it.  
> i dunno, i guess if anyone reading had anything to say...  
> anyways, i hope you enjoyed this chapter! leave a kudos, and if you can, a comment letting me know what you thought!  
> with love,  
> Kestrel


End file.
